


Fight or Die

by Romantic_at_Heart



Series: The Traumas' We Survive [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Graphic Description, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Twilight Zone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romantic_at_Heart/pseuds/Romantic_at_Heart
Summary: Everyone warned him that being a Formula One driver would be exhausting but he didn't understand how bad it would get. When everything gets too much for the Red Bull Driver, he makes a drastic decision. Ending up in-between worlds, Max has the chance to see his past, present, and future. Will it be enough for him to fight for his life or to give up.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: The Traumas' We Survive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985203
Comments: 54
Kudos: 269





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, hope you enjoy the story.  
> I do hope I have written this well and haven't offended anyone by writing this. It is based on my own experiences and some research.  
> Criticism or praise is welcome!

_2012_

He watched as his dad left the service station and drove off into the distance. Alone and scared, Max loitered underneath the shop roof putting up a bravado to hide how scared he really was. He tried to look like he had a purpose, that he was waiting to be picked up instead of just being abandoned God knows where.

Max stood there for what seemed forever but in reality, was probably only 30 or 40 minutes or so. He was busy fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie when a tall woman walked over to him. He tried to avoid looking at her but in the quick glance he took, he noticed the women's worried expression and concerned eyes.

‘Are you ok young man?’ She asked in a broken English accent. She had an underlying German accent and was either holidaying here or had recently moved to where Max had been abandoned.

‘I’m fine.’ He replied, trying to sound confident, ‘Just waiting for my parents.’

It wasn’t a total lie after all.

‘Would you like to borrow my phone to ring them? See where they are?’

He watched as the lady held out her iPhone at him. Hesitantly, he grabbed it and started dialing the one person who would never let him down.

His mum said she would be 40 minutes or so and not to worry. Just stay safe and she’ll be there. Neither one of them mentioned his dad and why he could have possibly done this. Deciding that enough was enough, he got up from the ground where he had sat for the last 20 minutes or so and walked towards the slip road. He might as well entertain himself in spotting cars in the meantime.

He stopped at the end of the greenery where the grass ended, and the hard concrete began. Cars were speeding past just over a meter away from him. They looked so slow compared to formula one cars. He remembered the noise and the speed from when he was little, watching his dad race. He watched as they sped around the track in no time at all and yet these cars, these cars were doing about a third of the speed that a formula one car can do yet could still kill a human.

Max blinked as the dark thought entered his head. Would he die if one of these cars hit him now? He would be gravely injured no doubt, but would he die? What would his legacy be? Max Verstappen the boy who lost the karting championship. Probably that to be honest. Would his dad care or would he just train Victoria instead? Would his dad finally shed a tear for him? Tell him how proud he was of him if he were dead? 

Time passed by and no one disturbed him. A young teenager standing on the slip road of a petrol station facing the traffic. Cars zoomed past him never-ending yet he there he stood. His mother had always told him to take everything one step at a time. Now all he needed was one step and everything would end. There would be no more karting, no more pressure, and no more disappointing looks and harsh punishments from his father. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled for the last time and he hyped himself up to take the step. Suddenly, a car honk stopped him from stepping out. He turned his head around and saw his mum waiting in her car, looking somewhat perplexed at Max. Looking back at the traffic, he realised he couldn't do that in front of his mum, he couldn't do that to her, he couldn’t traumatise her so he slowly walked back to the petrol pumps, opened the car door and seat belted himself in.

‘Je ok lieverd?’ _(You ok sweetheart?)_

‘Ja Moeder. Ik hou gewoon van het kijken naar de auto's gaan door snel’ _(Yes mother. I just like watching the cars go by fast.)_

His mother nodded, satisfied with the answer, and drove out of the service station home. Max shut his eyes and tried his hardest not to cry. He tried not to think of the punishment that lay ahead. As long as he made it to F1, everything would be worth it and would get better.

* * *

_2021_

It was not worth it. Not anymore.

He wasn’t entirely sure when everything mounted up and it became too much if he was going to be honest with himself. His dad taught him not to be a quitter and that you push through everything but pushing get tiring and exhausting and quite frankly Max didn’t know how much more strength he had left in him. Not only was their immense pressure from Red Bull who wanted a championship this year but never-ending questions were circulating. Could Max do it? Would Max destroy yet another teammate? Would he lash out when things don't go his way?

They were five races into the season and Max already had two DNF, one podium, and some measly points- nothing compared to his start last year. He would sometimes catch other drivers looking at him, judging him whenever he messed up or when he was sitting in the garage sulking after not achieving what was expected of him. He saw the questioning looks in their eyes; what happened to you?

His father's voice was ever-present in his head. His insults running through Max's mind 24/7 with no hint of them stopping anytime soon. On top of that, his head felt like it was full of cotton wool. He wasn't coming down with anything, his head just felt full of stuff; never-ending thoughts, what-ifs, ways out. He tried not to think too darkly or head down that path but sometimes it was the only way to please his father's voice in his head.

Socialising started to get too much for him. He couldn't handle being in the same room as other drivers anymore; on or away from the track. He always sat a distance away from everyone. At first, Lando or Pierre and Daniel would come and sit with him and talk to him, but he didn't offer many conversations back. A few sentences at most and he kept it vague, very vague. Pretty soon they gave up trying to socialise with him and sat with their other friends, having deep, meaningful conversations with each other and sometimes looking over at him very briefly.

Lando tried to invite him to play more online games and stream with him but he denied them all. He was failing in F1, he didn't need to fail in virtual worlds as well and in front of millions of people, nonetheless. Daniel tried to invite him out when he was in Monaco. He suggested they go down to the harbour with some mates and mess around or go somewhere for a few drinks but again he declined. He didn't want to talk about racing, and he didn't want to see any more pity in people's eyes about how shit his career was going. A few of the other drivers dropped him some messages and asked if he was ok, normally after shitty races. Max just replied 'yes' to them then left it at that. His life was his own business, not anyone else's.

The driver conferences didn't help either. Alex made a random comment about Max being more anti-social recently to the press and he imagined it was him trying to figure out his car. He didn't have the heart or the energy to tell them that it was because he was so scared to leave his driver's room, so scared to see anyone else pitiful looks, to see their small sad smiles aimed at him. He didn't have the heart that leaving his driver's room scared him so much that he would start hyperventilating and soon a full-blown panic attack would occur. Max didn't want to tell anyone about that. He didn't need to show any more weakness. He'd already shown enough through his failures this year. Instead, he chose to ignore what Alex had said and just vaguely answer the questions that were given to him.

He really hit a low point during Spain. His car had to be retired in lap 20 on Sunday due to a crash with Vettel. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. One moment he was entering turn 9 and the next he was spinning, stopping just inches away from Vettel’s spun car as well. His father was not happy, to say the least. Although there was no physical punishment this time, Jos Verstappen's loud voice was still ringing in his ears, shaking him to the core, reinstating how much of a failure he was. Max left with his head looking down at the floor and made his way back to the Red Bull garage to watch the remainder of the race when he bumped into the German himself.

‘What was that?’ He asked with an annoyed tone and his voice slightly raised.

Max flinched slightly and stumbled over his words when he replied, ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see you.’

‘Didn’t see me?’ The German repeated slightly louder than before, ‘Are you blind?’

The tone made him flinch again and when he didn’t answer Vettel’s question as he was too zoned out to listen, the Ferrari driver took a step forward. Seeing red, Max sprinted off in the opposite direction ignoring the shout of his name as he did so.

He wasn’t entirely sure where he was running to. He saw a secluded area in the Paddock and sat down there and shut his eyes trying to calm the loud voices inside his head. He wasn't sure how long he had sat there for with his eyes closed. He heard the Podium celebrations occur a while back and he dreaded to think how much trouble he would be in for not being present for the media. No doubt there were already a million questions as to why Max Verstappen wasn't answering any questions. They'll probably put it down as him being pissed off and in a terrible mood as per. 

He blinked multiple times as he reopened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light. The sun was still out but it was clouding up and the temperature was slowly dropping. He grabbed his phone from out of his pocket and turned it off silent- something he did before the race began. He grimaced at all the missed calls from Christian. He was about to lock his phone when another incoming call from his principle started ringing out. Panicked, Max threw his phone against the wall watching it smash into millions of pieces. Much to his surprise, he didn't feel regret or a jolt of 'what did I just do?' but instead he felt relieved that he no longer had means of communicating with the outside world. He could just stay in his head and control everything that was going on in there without any distractions.

When returned to the Red Bull garage, there were only a few people left. Most of the drivers had gone back to their hotel rooms by now and if they hadn't Max was sure he wouldn't bump into them anytime soon. He tried to ignore the confused stares of the engineers as he walked back to his drivers' room, collected his stuff, and left. Before doing so he made sure that he got his timetabled emailed over instead claiming that his phone was on the blink and not downloading everything correctly. He didn’t need any more excuses for people to hate him.

The race after Spain ended badly as well. The media were swamping him, asking where was he after the race? Where did he go? Although he didn’t crash into another driver, Max lost control of the car and smashed straight into the barriers. He sat there dazed for a few seconds before he heard a crackled voice on the radio asking if he was alright.

‘Yes. I’m fine.’ He replied disappointed.

Looking back, it was unsure whether that disappointment came from him crashing out of the race or his survival.

He stood in the pit lane, a mere ten minutes later, watching as his car was being towed back in. He dared not to look at Christian or Marko for he feared their angry expressions would scar him for life. He was extremely lucky that his dad was not here this weekend. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that. The voices in his head were already loud enough without his physical presence adding to them.

The one thing that his mind kept racing back to was the second before he crashed. How at peace he felt at the possibility of dying. How calm it made him. How every single worry and every single negative thought and memory had disappeared. He looked back over at his team principal and owner in a heated discussion and it filled him with dread. He knew that there would be a briefing later and he knew that he would get humiliated and ridiculed in it. He knew the other drivers would look at him with pity; how the mighty have fallen. Look everyone, look how far Max Verstappen has fallen. Maybe this was the moment all his dreams had been leading to.

Max Verstappen the boy who was losing the championship. It was like 2012 again. Only this time his dad couldn’t abandon him at a service station.

It was in that second that Max knew he was done. Done with everything. Done with his life.

He grabbed one of the spare notebooks left on the garage side as he headed towards his driver's room. Opening the door and then closing it quietly, Max sat down at the sofa placed delicately in his room. He grabbed a pen from his desk and opened the notebook up. No matter what he was feeling right now, he had to give his family and friends some closure. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back so it hit the wall gently, Max took a deep breath thinking of what to write. It only took a few minutes before inspiration hit.

_When you find this then I’ll be gone. I don’t know where I’ll be, but I won’t be there with you guys anyone. My dad was right all along. I am weak and I am useless. Let’s be honest guys, I had been fucking up for a while now. If I wasn’t signed for Red Bull till 2023, they would have booted me out a by now. I wouldn’t blame them for doing so. I’m not as special as they once thought I was. I’m not even a good racing driver anymore and I don’t know if I ever was._

_Can you tell me mum and Victoria that I loved them so much and I didn't want them to be disappointed in me any longer. I couldn't bear it anymore. Tell my dad is was right and that I am weak. Tell Lando that it was great being one of his closest friends and I loved playing all those games with him. They really cheered me up whenever I was down. Tell Alex and Pierre that they were great teammates and I’m sorry if I caused them any trouble or ruined their racing careers. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t aim to be a bad teammate. Can you thank Helmut and Christian for the opportunity they gave me? They helped my dreams come true and without them, I would be even more of a nothing then I already am. Tell Charles that I don't actually hate him and that I have always considered him a dear friend of mine and an excellent racer. Finally, tell Daniel thank you and that he meant more to me than he will ever know._

_Don’t be sad about this. I knew what I was doing. If it’s any help just know that I’m finally in peace and I’m sure we’ll all meet again someday and somewhere but until then enjoy life and don’t let your lives turn out like mine. Keep pushing guys! You’ll all get there in the end._

_Max Verstappen_

Placing the letter down on his driver room table, Max took a deep breath exited the room, and slammed the door shut.

_Thank you for all the memories._

Slowly he made his way other to the furthest bathroom he could find, walking through the paddock as he did so. He tried his hardest to block out all the memories of his races here. His first win, his podiums, him laughing with other drivers. He didn't dare look up at all the logos of various organisations and companies plastered everywhere. He didn't dare think about Pirelli tires and how shit they were at the British GP last year, he didn't dare think about all the fun activities he had done with Red Bull like playing football, making cocktails, and driving around various locations in cars provided by his team. Tears were already threatening to fall from his eyes, he needed to remain focussed one last time.

Once he reached the bathroom, the driver jammed the main door shut, placing the bin underneath the door handle. He grabbed a toilet brush from one of the cubicles and threw it against a mirror causing it to break into a thousand pieces, shattering against the cold hard floor. Max walked forward and bent down to pick up a reasonable size piece not daring to look at the thousand tiny reflections of himself as he did so.

Taking a shaky breath, he stared at the now blank wall where the mirror once was. He knew he was close to sobbing by now and it was only due to some unknown determination that he wasn’t doing so. He clutched the mirror piece in his hand.

_Now or never Max. Just two cuts and it’ll be over._

Unclutching the broken piece of mirror and holding it in his hand, he held his wrist out. Taking one final a shaky breath, he pierced his skin with the sharp edge and cut across. He watched the pouring blood out, dripping down his forearm, onto his hands, and splatting on the bathroom floor. Tears were cascading down his face as he placed the broken mirror piece into his other hand repeated the same actions and watched again.

_Just one more step._

He slid down the bathroom wall, onto the floor, his wrists laying either side of his legs, bleeding out. He sobbed out loud and hoped that no one heard him. Keeping his head level and eyes right in front of him, he stared at the white cupboard door underneath the sink. The sound of the F1 cars racing around the track could be heard in the background, their engines fighting and pounding. Not giving up. His mind quickly flicked to his fellow drivers and their determination throughout their racing careers. F1 would be safe in the hands of those guys.

_Goodbye, you guys. Drive carefully and stay hydrated. Bye._

Max shut his eyes for the final time.

* * *

When his eyes opened again (much to his surprise), he wasn't in the bathroom but instead down a white corridor. People were bustling past him, not noticing him. He looked around the space confused, there were multiple doors along the walls on both sides and people were sitting on chairs looking sad, angry and lost. No stopped to talk to him though he wasn’t expecting anyone too. Why would they?

‘You look a little lost young man?’

Turning around, he was met with stern eyes which reminded him of his fathers. Gulping and stepping back a few paces, Max placed his right hand onto his left bicep as if he was trying to protect himself. The man in question looked to be around 50-60 years old. He was wearing cotton trousers with a blue and white checker shirt half tucked in. He had a grey beard tinged with specks of white giving the impression of a dirty Santa Claus. He looked like he had been dragged out of the 1990s or something. The man crossed his arms and tapped his right foot impatiently as if he were waiting for Max to do something.

‘Well? Are you lost?’ He asked.

‘I don’t know. I… I don’t remember coming here. I don’t know where he is.’ He replied a little timidly while looking around to see if there was anything familiar about the place.

‘So you are lost then. Don't worry it happens to quite a lot of people. One moment you're out shopping or in your car then bam here you are.' 

‘Where is he exactly?’ Max asked.

'Well, that's a little more complicated. The infrastructure you see around you is in Barcelona's main hospital but where you physically are… well.'

Max looked back at the man confused. He couldn’t be at a hospital. It was impossible. Everyone was still busy racing when he left. Granted, he did leave a note explaining everything but there was no way anyone could have found him in time, he was sure of it. This must some mistake, some weird psychotic dream before he passed away. It was only then that he remembered what else the man said.

‘What do you mean physically? I’m in a dream, aren’t I? That has to be it. You’ve been created from some subconscious part of my brain.’

‘Young man I can ensure you I am not from your head. I have been in this hospital for nearly twenty years.’

Max stared at the man in shook. There was no way this was happening to him. It had to be a dream. His head was giving him one last messed up hurrah before switching off permanently.

'I have to be in a dream.' Max exclaimed a little angry at the situation. Why won't anyone listen to him? Did his imaginary figures from his head doubt him as well?

'No. You're not because you're not the only one here. I'm here and there are plenty of others around this hospital like you.'

‘Like me?’

‘In the world of the in-between? You my friend are in what the youths of today dub the twilight zone.’

Max stepped back away from his man each pace increasing. He spun around and continued to walk down the corridor and to his surprise the man didn’t call out to him. He started jogging past people, dodging them if they were in his way before he remembered what the mysterious man said. He halted and turned towards a middle-aged man leaning against the wall, a cup of coffee in his hand.

'Excuse me, sir.' Max said but there was no acknowledgment that he even spoke. The man continued to drink his coffee until the cup became empty. He moved off the wall and straight past Max.

‘Excuse me mate, I’m trying to speak to you!’ The Dutchman exclaimed trying again.

He was about to tap the coffee-drinking man on the shoulder when a different voice spoke out from behind him.

‘He can’t hear you. He can’t even see you.’

Max turned around and saw a woman, not much older than he was leaning against the very wall coffee man was just leaning on. She too had her arms crossed and her clothes looked more modern compared to the man he spoke to earlier. However, what really caught Max's attention was her blood-stained t-shirt. A dark irregular circle of blood was present in the middle of her t-shirt contrasting horribly with the purple.

‘I don’t know what you’re staring at. You’re not much better.’

Confused by what she was implying, Max looked down at his wrists and saw the dried blood around them. His hands were covered too. Speechless and shocked about the state of them, he noticed that the ends of his t-shirt were also soaked in blood. Where he had placed his right hand earlier on his left bicep had left a blood mark. He looked back at the girl and watched as the man from earlier joined her.

‘You’re dying boy.’ He stated bluntly, ‘So are you going to fight to live, or are you going to die?’


	2. The Doors to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having no idea what's happening, Max is forced to witness his past. Will it give him the inspiration to fight to live or to find a way to continuing dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Thank you for all the feedback on the previous chapter.  
> I hope this one is as good as the last.   
> As always feel free to comment/Criticise

Max stared back at the untidy, elderly man. A million thoughts were running through his mind but none of them were coming out of his mouth. He shifted his gaze over the young women who smirked at him, amused by his cluelessness position, which angered Max slightly. What did she know that he didn’t? They were in his head, weren’t they? His creations? His subconscious?

‘Well? What are you doing?’ The man asked again as if he were a primary school. He wasn’t a little kid. Not anymore. No matter how old his dad made him feel.

‘This is insane. I’m dead.’ Max stated breaking out of his thoughts and ignoring the question, ‘It was nice meeting you and you. Very nice but I’m going to go.’

He began to walk off down the corridor.

‘Go where?’ The women piped up.

‘I don’t know. Wherever people go when they die.’ Max said spinning around on his ankles and shrugging his shoulders.

The women laughed gently back at him as if his death was somewhat amusing to her. She shook her head at him and looked back at the elder gentleman, who had an eyebrow raised.

‘I love it when they’re clueless.’ She replied grinning joyfully. She then walked on over to Max, grin still present on her face, ‘And where do you think people go when they die exactly?’

Her grin was really starting to piss him off now. He did what he did to get away from people like her… and to other reasons….

‘I don’t know…Heaven, Hell, nowhere…certainly not here though this is beginning to feel a lot like hell.’

‘It’s not hell. As I tried to explain to you earlier, but you were insisting that I was merely a figure of your imagination, this is the world of the in-between.’ The man replied annoyed and with an eye roll.

‘The world of the in-between?’ Max repeated laughing slightly, ‘Oh come on. No. So what? I’m not alive and I’m not dead?’

‘Basically…yeah…’ The girl replied back. She knew adverted her gaze down to his wrists which were dried with blood, ‘Something very drastic must have happened for you to come here. People only come here when they’re in a coma or well they’re heart has stopped.’

‘Considering what I did, I think we can assume my heart has stopped.’ Max replied still in disbelief at this whole situation. There was no way he was in the world of the in-between. This was definitely some blood loss hallucination.

‘And what did you do exactly?’ The elder man asked.

Max looked at the man stood opposite him perplexed.

_Kinda fucking obvious mate_

Inside of answering the man, Max held up his wrists and smiled quickly at the man to highlight the stupidity of the question.

‘Interesting how you can’t say it though.’ He replied looking at Max, ‘That you slit your wrists with the aim to die. As if you almost can’t believe you did it.’

‘I know what I did.’ Max argued back getting angry, ‘I fully well know what I did. The only thing I’m having trouble understanding is why I’m here. Blood loss is a pretty quick way to die.’

‘For some. Depends on the circumstances.’

Max shook his head annoyed at the man and looked around the corridor again. All the doors along both walls were identical to one another. There was no way to tell them apart. Was he meant to walk through one? Was that it? Was he meant to walk through one of the doors and boom, welcome to Heaven?

‘Can you at least tell me about the doors?’ The Dutchman asked trying to hide the annoyance and spite at the situation in his voice, ‘If you can’t properly answer anything else.’

The women diagonally to him, to which Max would admit he’d forgotten about, smiled brightly at him again as if the other man was about to reveal another big surprise.

‘You seen normal rules don’t apply in the world of the in-between. Here mysterious things happen.’

‘Do they _really_?' Max deadpanned back not amused and frankly about to lose his shit at this weirdo.

'These doors are the doors to your past. Through lies a memory. I have yet to understand if there is any reason, pattern, or logic to which specific memories lie behind these doors, after all, everyone is different but there are a variety.'

'Doors to my past. Ok… right…I'm sorry because I am going to have to stop you right there. I somewhat accepted the world of the in-between. Just a smidge but doors to my past. No. I cross the line right there! The race…the race which to my knowledge I just heavily fucked up in. The race that is currently going on back in Spain…did that actually happen or was that a dream because all of this…this is insane? Did I actually do it? Did I actually try to kill myself? Or was that a dream too and this is some weird prank? Was it Lando? Or Daniel? Are they behind this trying to cheer me up because it really isn’t fucking working!’

‘You really need to chill Man.’ The girl stated with her arms crossed and leaning against the wall again, ‘I don’t get why you’re having trouble dealing with this?’

'Oh, I don't know? Maybe because this was the last thing I expected to deal with when I died?'

'You're not dead yet!' The girl replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, 'Anyway, why are we still standing here. Come on! I want to see what's through these doors.'

Running up to one of the identical doors like a six-year-old child, the young women winked at Max before opening the door and walking through it before he could even dispute it. The elder man strolled past him and walked through the open door as well. 

_Fucking hell! Who does she think she is? Opening doors to my past like she knows me! Anything could be in there! This is so fucking weird._

'Aww, this looks cute!' He heard her exclaim.

Sighing to himself, he entered through the door intrigued about what memory she came across.

He immediately noticed that he was back in the Red Bull Factory. All the cars were on show, pointing towards the middle of the room. He adverted his gaze away from the car to said area of the room where he noticed a black sofa with two shitty puppets sitting on it. Max didn’t even have to guess where this was, he knew instantly. This was the end of 2018 on the sofa with Max and Daniel. God that felt ages ago.

Marianne was standing a few feet away from him while the other man stood a few meters away from both of them as if he was annoyed at having to witness Max’s memory; not that the Dutchman wanted or even asked for him to be here! They all watched as 2018 Max and Daniel conversed on the sofa, laughing over the great times they had and answering those stupid questions set by the Red Bull Team.

_Honestly, some of those questions were an absolute joke!_

Max tried to stop the voice from inside his head repeating word for word what his younger self was saying, trying to deny that he knew this interview word for word, that this interview had been so special to him that he embedded in his memories intending to remember it forever. It wasn't working. It was like a transcript had suddenly been placed in Max's head. He knew what body movements he would make next and the same with Daniel. He knew what question he was about to ask and what question he would lamely answer. He knew that Daniel was about to start getting distracted by the puppets.

‘I hope they put a heavy petting warning on this video.’ The girl asked after a long silence between the trio.

‘Heavy petting?’ Max asked confused.

‘Your friend won’t stop touching that blonde puppet.’

‘That’s meant to be me.’

Suddenly she laughed out loud causing Max to step aside quickly for the fear that he would turn deaf if he did not.

‘That looks nothing like you.’

‘Yeah...I mean they tried.’

‘He’s kinda touchy with the puppet version of you. Does he do that to you in real life?’

They watched as Daniel kept running his hands through puppet Max’s hair. He kept softly stroking it as if it were some comfort toy to him.

_I wish_

‘No...well...he touches everyone, he’s that kinda person but not that intimately.’

‘Huh’

The fell back into silence as Max watched this memory unfold. He could no longer deny the fact that he remembered filming this one the most out of the three they did. This was the last one he did with Daniel after all. He remembered the sadness in his chest mixed with happiness and laughter as the pair tried to answer the questions. This was only 3 almost 4 years ago yet it feels like a lifetime. A completely different Max sat on the sofa. A happier Max. A more hopeful Max. A competent Max. He knew he shouldn't be comparing himself to his 20th self but he couldn't help it. It reinforced how screwed up Max's life had become in 2021. How much of a failure he had become. He almost wanted to go over to his younger self and warn him of what's to come, tell him about all of his failures, persuade him to quit while he's ahead, and find something new.

He looked across at Daniel and felt a strong sadness enter his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was over though. Daniels lack of podiums maybe? It would take until 2021 for Daniel to reach another podium, his years at Renault absolutely wasted in the Dutchman’s opinion. Or maybe, it was over how his friendship with the Australian declined over this present year. They were strong in 2019 and 2020, maybe even stronger than what they were when they were teammates at Red Bull. It changed this year. He couldn’t hack friendships anymore. He could no longer look in the eyes of his friends as a failure. He unintentionally destroyed everything else in his life and did the same to his friendships. He cut them off before he could break them.

2018 Daniel was now laughing at something 2018 Max had just said. Present Max shut his eyes and smiled softly as the laughter filled his ears. It had been so long. Months since he heard that laugh. Cutting ties with Daniel had been much harder than Max had thought. There was always something inside of him gravitating towards the Australian even in his darkest moments, even when he was crying and panicking in his Drivers room. He knew he felt more than friendship for his ex-teammate. He did know when exactly, but he did. Maybe it was mid-2017 or after Malaysia perhaps? He can’t pinpoint it, but Max has always felt something more. He continued to stare at Daniel and watched all his soft features on his face as he did so, trying to memorise them one more time.

‘You love him.’ A female voice next to him startling him. He honestly kept forgetting about the two trespassers.

‘I...what?’

‘Heart eyes.’ She replied as if that answered anything. Before Max could comment she did elaborate, much to his surprise, ‘You give him heart eyes when he’s speaking. Eyes filled with love. Heart eyes.’

‘I don’t do heart eyes.’ Max said remembering his father’s words about love and distractions, ‘I don’t really do love.’

‘Couldn’t have fooled me.’

The 2018 red bull team erupted in laughter and Max returned his attention back to them. He watched sadly but fondly at himself and Daniel and tried to dwell and think about where it all went wrong.

'Come on. This is getting boring.' The old man said heading back through the door. The girl smiled at the pair sitting on the sofa, turned on her heels, and made her way back into the 'world of the in-between'.

Max lingered for a second longer, watching himself happy and content with life before taking a step back, walking through the door, and slamming it shut for forever. He stepped back into the white corridor that resembled Barcelona's main hospital and sighed while closing his eyes.

‘Holy Fuck!’ She screeched almost deafening Max if that were at all possible wherever they were, ‘It’s just clicked! You’re Max Verstappen, the F1 driver. One of my friends has a major crush on you!’

Normally Max would reply with some sarcastic comment like 'What gave it away? The racing cars? The Red Bull Gear? The whole fucking factory? Instead, he just bit his tongue intending to ignore her.

When he opened them again, he noticed that the girl was standing right next to him, on the verge of having a freak-out. Both her hands were placed gently on the sides of her cheeks and she was smiling in shock.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you.’

‘You a fan of F1 then?’ He asked eventually deciding that ignoring her would get him nowhere. As much as he loved the fans and more specifically his orange army, he couldn’t really stand the thought of a fan following him around, looking into his memories.

‘No really. I’ve watched a few races. My friends are though.’

Max nodded politely at her unsure of what to say and somewhat pleased that she wouldn't get even more annoying than she currently was. The elder man was a few meters away from him, watching the two of them in amusement. Well…Max assumed it as amusement. He didn't look as miserable as he normally did but he didn't look exactly happy either.

‘He looks at you the same way, by the way.’ The girl said interrupting the small silence that had fallen upon them. 

‘What?’

‘The other guy. Daniel? He looks at you the same way you look at him when you’re not looking. The heart eyes.’ She explained.

‘He doesn’t.’ Max replied back instantly. There was no way Daniel ever looked at Max like that. What reason could he possibly have for giving Max ‘heart eyes’? None. ‘He does that with everyone, that’s just how he is.’

The girl laughed to herself and shook her head slightly, again as if she knew everything that was going on in Max’s life.

‘Ok. I’m sorry but who even are you?’ He asked reaching his limit. Was this girl of any importance to him?

'Name's Marianne. I was from Britain holidaying here in Spain with the girls. Girls trip yay! Anyway, we were hitting all the clubs and getting super drunk and fucked up. One night, I don't know… I got separated from them. Came out of the toilets and bam, they were gone. Left the pub I was in and drunkenly wandered the streets to find them. Some low life guy tried to rob me, take my purse. I fought back quite well if truths be told but he had a knife. When he lost in the fight, he stabbed me. The last thing I remember is looking at some streetlights and the dark night sky. Next thing I know here I am. This guy here finds me like he did you and tells me what's going on. I must say I accepted it all very quickly. Currently, I'm in a coma. The twat who stabbed me did a good job. No one's sure when I'm going to wake up but until then here I am.'

Max suddenly felt a bit guilty for judging her instantly. It appeared that like him, she didn't really have a choice in being here. Well, depending on if this is a dream and his head is that fucked up to make a story like that up. Max hoped he wasn't that fucked up.

'That's… awful… really awful… and I'm sorry that happened to you… I truly am but I can't be in a coma-like you. I can't be. There’s no way with the amount of blood loss…’

The elder man sighed and looked Max dead in the eye, 'Marianne explained earlier. People are only here because one; they're in a coma-like herself or two; Something important like their heart has stopped functioning which judging by your injuries, seems likely. Blood loss causing the heart to stop working does it not?'

‘Well yeah I suppose…’ Max started unsure of himself. He looked between the elder man and Marianne, ‘I mean but once the hearts stopped then shouldn’t I be dead.’

‘Do you not have any medical drama’s in Holland?’ Marianne asked somewhat in disbelief.

Before Max could reply asking what she meant and how he could still be alive if his heart had indeed stopped working, Marianne walked away from him and straight for a door. She turned her head back and grinned at him. Her hand was resting on the handle.

‘Let’s see what’s through this one.' The woman, now known as Marianne, stated as she pushed the door handle down and opened it, ‘Wonder what this memory is!’

‘Please don’t!’ Max exclaimed reaching out to her arm to stop her, but it was already too late, she handed entered the room and somehow grabbed him.

When fell through the door and looked around at his surroundings, he realised it was his driver’s room that he had stumbled into, nonetheless. Marianne was looking around amazed while the elderly man on their adventure crossed his arms and scoffed. At what, the Dutchman wasn’t sure. Max wandered over to his very small desk and glanced at his calendar. 06/09/2020; the start of the Italian Grand Prix. Where it all started to go wrong for him again, the weekend when his father's voice started getting louder again.

‘Care to explain what’s going?’

He looked over at the female voice, who had an eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. Sighing, Max stepped back from the desk and faced her.

‘This is the first the start of my downfall in 2020, this weekend and next weekend I get two DNF’s. It was an absolute shit show.’

‘You crash or something?’ Marianne asked intrigued.

Max shook his head. He didn’t want to particularly go into the technicalities and have to explain the issues with the engine. He knew deep down that these two races weren't his fault and it was his car to blame but when your reputation as Crashstappen precedes you… the only redeeming thing he did in the media's eyes and all his haters was that he congratulated Pierre on his win afterward in Monza. He felt a sharp pain of terror as he remembered how he flew back home to Monaco after Tuscany therefore not congratulating Alex on his podium in person. Everyone really hated him for that.

‘Just the car was fucked up mechanically.’

Marianne shrugged happy with the answer and tried to open the locked driver's room door despite knowing she couldn’t much to his confusion. Max dismissed this action quickly and continued watching his younger self rush around the tiny space, throwing stuff into his backpack when he heard his old ringtone. Younger Max reached across the table to answer it.

‘Not now Mama, I don’t feel in the mood for talking.’

Max vaguely remembered this conversation happening. His mum had called him after his DNF in Monza to try and console him over his recent race issue. She tried to lift his spirits, suggesting that he go to Belgium and spend a few days with her and Victoria. Max declined saying he wanted time on his own. He wanted to sulk at his own flat in peace.

He did flinch slightly as he remembered his mum and Victoria and tried not to imagine the grief and hardship they would go through when they were told about what he’d done. He tried not to think about the number of tears they would shed, how grief-stricken they would be. Would they ever fully recover or would Max's death stay with them forever? Still, it's better to have no son than a failing one in his eyes.

He engaged back to the scene in front of him and watched his younger self finish the brief call with his mum then punch a wall in anger. Pain hit is current knuckles in remembrance and the dried blood was already in place from when his skin split open a year earlier.

‘Do you do that often?’ Marianne asked.

Max shrugged in response; he didn’t do every week, but it probably happened more than it should.

'I'm surprised your hand isn't even more fucked up then.' She replied looking down present Max's hands despite the fact she couldn't see them properly with the blood covering the skin.

'Yeah.' He didn't dare go into the number of times Daniel found him curled up on his driver room floor, even when he's left Red Bull, with a bloodied hand held tightly to his chest. The Australian personally cleaned it and wrapped it up himself as if Max's welfare was his own personal responsibility. He blinked back the tears as he thought back to the times' Daniel had to pick up the pieces of Max's broken life.

‘I’m going.’ Max announced quickly wiping the un-fallen tears from his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch anymore, not that it would get any more interest. Max would simply continue watching the race and then congratulate Pierre in the Media ring later, avoiding talks with Christian and Marko. 

He noted that Marianna nodded her head understandingly and left his memory with the other man following, arms still crossed and face still miserable. He looked down at his past self, curled on the floor, fist clenched close to his chest and walked back through the door, and leaned his forehead against the opposite wall as if it were burning and he needed to cool it down.

‘Guess being an F1 driver isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’ He heard Marianne mutter.

He laughed quietly as if she muttered some random joke into his ear.

‘It’s fine if you have a good reputation with everyone.’

‘And you don’t?’

'Being Red Bulls' golden boy isn't everything it's cracked up to be. You lose friends and make enemies.'

‘I’m sure that’s not true. I’m sure you have more friends than you think.’

‘I really doubt it.’

‘Come on.’ Marianne said pulling him away from where he was resting against the wall, ‘It can’t be all bad in your life? Surely you must have some happy memories here?’

‘Maybe. Probably only when I’m on the podium and maybe some of the Red Bull promotional videos. Compared to everything else in my life, not much.’

Marianne looked rather skeptical at Max and scanned her eyes along with the identical doors intending to cheer him up and help him remember what life was really about. She couldn't believe that his life could be that depressing.

‘Now this one better be exciting.’ Marianne said walking up to a random door and bracing herself before she opened it. Max knew better than to stop her this time. Instead, he entered the room and decided that nothing could possibly be worse than what he’d already revisited. He would indulge in her attempt to cheer him up,

He passed through the door and into his bedroom from when he was a child. Max looked around and smiled slightly remembering everything as he did so; all his toys, his race car bedding, his world map. He walked over to the latter object in the room and touched it gently. He knew that he couldn't physically touch anything but still, it was nice to imagine one last time. Max looked around the room to see what date and even year it was. It might trigger why this is an important memory for him.

Suddenly, the sound of feet running up the stairs replaced the eerie silence in the room. Max looked towards, the door completely forgetting that Marianne and the other man were with him and watched as he bed door slammed open with a great force, and his eight-year-old self zoomed into the bedroom and hid under the covers crying as he did so.

Something dropped in Max’s stomach. He remembered this day. He remembered this day well. This was the day he shoved to the back of his mind. The memory he tried ever so hard to forget yet couldn’t. The one memory that was kept on repeating almost fifteenth years later. He didn’t mean to make that mistake while karting. He really didn’t. He fell from 1st to 4th and never recovered.

His heart was broken as he heard his younger self quietly sob underneath the duvet and his stomach filled with dread as he heard very familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. Max stopped breathing as his dad appeared in his bedroom doorway and it was only a few seconds later that he remembered he couldn’t be seen; none of them could be except little Max.

His dad threw the duvet covers onto the floor and the Red Bull driver could see his younger self curled up in a fetal position on the bed. He flinched as his dad grabbed his small arm and pulled him up and away from the bed so that little Max was standing before him. He watched his horror as his dad shouted abuse at him, telling him how weak he was, how useless he was, how he gave up everything just so Max could race, and this was the thanks he got.

Max felt his dad’s grip around his own wrist as if he were doing it to his adult self and not his younger self. Tears fell down his face before he even registered that he was crying as he continued to watch his dad berate him for such a tiny mistake. Little Max was still sobbing quietly, his body shaking with fear.

_Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me!_

‘Stop that blubbering.’ His dad shouted at him in Dutch, ‘Real men don’t cry. Winners don’t cry. Verstappen’s don’t cry and they don’t ask for help from other drivers either.’

Max quickly wiped his own tears away out of reflex despite not being visible. He noticed his left shoulder was aching in anticipation of what was about to happen. He watched as his dad tightened his grip around Max’s wrist still yelling at him then suddenly, he threw little Max across the room. His younger self landed with a loud thump on the floor as he left side made contact with it. His own shoulder started to ache more as well as his side.

'Don't ever upset me again. Don't ever fail me again. Understood?' His dad said as he slammed his bedroom door shut.

Max looked down at his younger self curled on the floor shaking with fear. He closed his eyes and a single tear escaped, running down his face and landed on the blue carpet of his bedroom. His father's voice in his head had suddenly returned and it at that moment that Max noticed it had been absent throughout his entire time here; wherever here was.

Deciding enough was enough, Max left his old room in a hurry, not even stopping to shut the door as he did so. Marianne and the weird old man could do that for him after what they’ve put him through. He stormed down the corridor, still angry and still very much scared. The Dutchman ignored all the doors as he sped past, not daring to dip into his past again but the corridor was never-ending, and the doors were always present. He had no idea how far he walked until he gave up and stopped. He could hear the thud of footsteps catching up to him. 

‘I’m sorry. We didn’t know…I would have stopped Marianne before…’ The elder man said quietly, his posture different from when he first met Max.

‘Just tell me how to get out of here.’ Max pleaded as he slid onto the hospital floor.

_Why can’t I just die? Why can’t it all just end?_

‘You seem very determined to die young man.’

‘And I don’t understand why you’re so determined for me to live. You know my life, you’ve seen it. You may seem really angry and miserable but your smart, so you know what’s waiting for me if I wake up from this. You think he’s going to come running to wherever I am to hug me? To tell me he loves me? Beg for forgiveness after _everything_ he’s done? He won’t. He’ll just be annoyed that I’ve thrown yet another season away. I can’t cope with that anymore. I can’t keep looking at the failure in his eyes. I can’t do that anymore. I can’t. I can’t wake up from this and continue racing in a car that I’m so incompetent in driving in. I can’t continue smiling at the media looking like everything’s ok and I got everything under control when I haven’t. I can’t keep jumping into that car and hoping for a podium and hoping that it’ll make everything better. I can’t take people’s pity and harsh words and act like they bounce off me because they don’t. They seep in and they seep in deep. I did what I did for a reason. I am broken beyond repair and that was the only way I could fix me.’

‘What about your friends?’ He asked crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, ‘You said earlier you didn’t have any, but I doubt that. Couldn’t you have asked them for help?’

‘What friends? As you said, I told you earlier, I don’t have any friends. Not anymore. Not for a long time.’

‘Then what’s with all the people outside your hospital room?’ The man asked with a very small smile on his face.

‘What people?’ Max asked confused.

The man stopped leaning against the wall and started walking down the corridor to the last door on the right. Max clambered up from where he was sitting on the floor and curiously followed him. The door was opened with a light force and the odd man tilted his head indicating that Max should go through first. His curiosity was still peaked so he entered through the door and found himself in a similar corridor. A slam from behind him startled him slightly and the other man walked on in front assuming that Max would follow to which he did.

They turned a corner and the elder man stopped abruptly causing Max to nearly crash into him. He looked across at the back of his head glaring at annoyed, but the man stayed still as if he was invested in the scene in front of him. Realising that said man was not going to move anytime and skirted around him. He stopped dead when he looked upon the scene.

His eyes first glanced over at Lando Norris. The young McLaren’s driver was sitting on one of the hospital seats, his legs pulled up to his chest. He was somewhat leaning to his right into Carlos Sainz’s chest, who had one arm wrapped around the Brit. Both of their eyes were rimmed red and Max did notice the dark bags underneath them. Both of them were looking down at the floor as if they were too scared to look at the door in front of them.

He skimmed over to where he could hear faint sobbing. Much to his surprise, Charles LeClerc was the cause of that noise. The sobs were faint as the Monégasque had his face hidden in Pierre Gasly's neck. The Frenchman was soothingly rubbing his friend's back but when Max looked closer, he could see how distraught the Frenchman looked. He muttered something into Charles's ear causing the man to nod and wrap his arms around his friend's waist holding on for dear life. 

Lastly, he saw one person who was standing up, eyes focused on the door as he if they were telekinetic and would magically make the door open if they focus hard enough. Max had never seen Daniel Ricciardo as still as he currently was before. The Australian had his arms crossed, back straight against the wall, and was still staring at the door. The expression on his ex-teammates face almost broke Max's heart for the 100th time that day. He looked heartbroken, absolutely heartbroken. Max felt a twinge of pain as he knew he was responsible for it. The new McLaren driver muttered something under his breath, tears threatening to fall as he did so.

It was only then that Max realised all of them minus Charles and Pierre were in their fireproofs still as if they had literally jumped out of their cars mid-race and ran straight to the hospital.

‘Those friends.’ The man next to him said replying to Max’s earlier question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Learning about the present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After facing his past and seeing his friends, Max tries to work out what has happened during the time he's spent in the world of the in-between. Will the doors hold the answer or will Max be left with unanswered questions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I'm back again!  
> Thank you all for the lovely feedback I've been getting. It's really amazing knowing you guys love the story and are finding it emotional.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!   
> Comments/Criticism welcome!

Max looked over at his friends astonished that they were even sitting there. He took in their appearance, sweaty, dirty, and messy yet still stood there astounded by it all. Why were they all here?

_They couldn’t be there waiting for me, could they? No… not after the last few months_

Something must have happened after he crashed out of the race. A quiet sob brought him out of his thoughts. He looked over at the Ferrari driver and breathed out a shaky sad sigh. 

He went up to Charles and gently placed his hand on his upper arm despite the fact the Monegasque man couldn’t feel or see him. He felt the soft trembles vibrate through his hand and into his body. The Dutchman looked over at Pierre, who at closer observation had a look of despair and worry over his childhood friend. The Frenchman looked lost as if he had no idea how to console Charles or make it better.

‘What’s wrong with Charles?’ Max asked his voice still shaky.

‘I don’t know. He was like this when he arrived with the others.’ The elder man paused looking at Max then switching his gaze to huddled F1 drivers, ‘We could find out if you want.’

Max remover his hand from Charles carefully as if he didn’t want to disturb him and looked up at his companion, ‘How?’

'This place is mysterious. Not only does it hold doors to the past but to the present as well. We can go back throughout this year, this present year, and see what was going on with your friends. We can go and see why your so-called, not friends are currently sat here.'

Max looked at the man in silence before another loud sob echoed through the room. The Red Bull driver adverted his gaze back to Charles but found him in the same state he was in only seconds ago. Instead, he looked in the adjacent chair and found Carlos holding Lando in a similar position that Pierre was holding Charles and saw that it was the young McLaren driver crying now. Max gulped and prevented the tears from falling.

‘I need to know.’ He stated, ‘I need to know why they’re here. Someone else could be injured and be here with me.’

The other man nodded but gave a look of question to Max’s reason for needing to know why his friends were upset. Regardless, he walked towards the door next to the one Max presumed his current body was being treated in, judging by the way everything kept looking over at it and opened it. 

'The previous corridor held the doors to the past. This one holds the doors to the present. This one is a bit more logically in that, this door should take us to the events of today so mystery or guessing where we are required. Though it might get quite strange in there.’

‘Strange how?’ Max asked but before he got an answer the man stepped through. The Dutchman looked back at his friends sadly and followed. He had to do this. He had to help them no matter what before he truly died.

When entered the door, he stepped out into the paddock. Max could hear everyone cheering and the F1 cars in the background racing. He walked near the leader board to see where about in the race he had come back to. Scanning down, he saw that he was out, and had been for a while, meaning that he either was about to or had decided to end his life.

He heard the audience gasp in shock and the commentators go wild. Clearly, they had been an accident or had there? Maybe someone had found Max and they just announced the news. Surely they wouldn’t announce it in public? Deciding to find out for himself, he rushed through the paddock onto the pit lane, not caring if the older man was following or not. The Dutchman stopped abruptly when he witnessed all the remaining F1 cars file back in. Clearly, there had been a red flag. Surely they wouldn’t red flag for him? Surely, they would want as little attention as possible giving the sensitivity of the situation. He scanned the cars to see who was missing but it was hard with engineers and drivers everywhere.

He walked down the paddock, trying to locate every driver as he did so to see if there was anything different about them; different body language, different expressions, just something. He walked past Williams and Haas but the four drivers were sitting waiting for the race to start. The Dutchman kept note of everyone he saw.

‘...George, Nicholas, Alex, Lando, Daniel, Carlos...no Charles. No Charles. Where has Charles gone?’ Max muttered to himself.

He entered the Ferrari garage and lingered around trying to see if Charles had retired back to his driver's room, for the time being, taking a small break before continuing the race. He suddenly remembered how Charles wasn't wearing his fireproofs in the hospital while everyone else was.

_Red flag. Maybe Charles crashed. Maybe I have nothing to do with it all. Maybe Charles just very badly crashed and needed support and needed checking out at the hospital....No wait. Pierre wasn’t either and his car’s here._

Max was about to exit the Ferrari garage when he saw Charles' wrecked car being towed back, answering Max's earlier question. He then heard how one of the stewards said that LeClerc had decided to take a walk around the paddock to cool down.

_He can’t be injured then? Why was he in such a state?_

He blinked for a second and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a very familiar bathroom. Max almost couldn’t breathe when he saw the smashed mirror on the floor, the chair placed against the door. He looked over and saw the elder man looking at him with what appeared to be pity in his eyes.

‘How...why....what?’ Max asked confused at his new surroundings.

‘I told you. It’s mysterious. The present transports you to locations sometimes as if it wants you to witness what’s about to happen.’

'What's about to happen?' Max repeated back. He's knew what was about to happen. He had yet to acknowledge himself lying on the bathroom floor, but he got a glimpse at the puddles of blood around his upper body. He could barely make himself out breathing and knew that very soon his heart would stop then he would be transported to where that corridor was, ‘I already know what’s about to happen.’

‘Do you really?’ The elder man replied pity in his eyes gone and replaced with a patronising gaze.

Max was about to give an annoyed reply back when he heard muttering from behind the bathroom door. Angry muttering. The Dutchman couldn't figure out the language it was being said in, but it was getting angrier and angrier. Max gulped in fear as if the person was coming to attack him personally as if the figure behind the door knew that Max was witnessing these events and was about to be punished for it.

A loud bang filled the small bathroom and the door moved slightly, whoever was on the other side was getting angrier and angrier and had resorted to kicking the door now. Max was thankful that he placed the chair there, preventing it from opening but as he saw the chair vibrate against the wood of the door and it shuffle with every kick, worry-filled him. His prevention method wouldn't last for long.

Just as the thought entered his mind, the chair moved from under the door handle, allowing the door to be kicked open.

‘Merde. Finalement.’ The voice said entering the room and Max’s blood ran cold.

_No. Not like this._

The Monegasque driver entered the bathroom, running his hands through his hair as he did so before he froze. Max watched as Charles's gaze dropped to his unconscious body lying on the floor. It was if time stood still. Max could see Charles was trying to say something, but it was caught up in his throat.

'Max.' He finally said still frozen on the spot, his helmet that was in his hand dropped to the floor with a loud bang, 'Max...'

Time resumed as Charles rushed forward and almost skidded next to Max's unconscious body, blood soaking into the driver's fireproofs. He picked Max up and held him close, lifting his chin and feeling down his neck, presumably for a pulse.

'Max!' Charles shouted tears running down his race. He shook the Red Bulls driver's body as if to jerk him awake, 'Max. No...come on...Max. You’re ok. You’re ok. You’re going to be ok.’ 

The Ferrari driver moved his hand from Max’s back unconsciously to his wrists where he felt the red liquid seep from. It was if something clicked for Charles. Max let one tear slide down his face as he watched it all unfold.

‘Max…Max…Help!’ He started screaming breaking the Dutchman’s heart, ‘Help! Someone call an ambulance.’

A few passers-by ran into the bathroom and one of them grabbed their phones and started speaking to the operators. Charles stood up, stepped away from Max, and left the bathroom, his helmet still on the floor.

Max looked on in despair. He never intended for one of his fellow drivers to find him. Never in a million years. The bathroom was so far out, he thought some nobody would find him and by then it would be far too late.

‘Where’s he going?’ Max heard himself ask much to his disbelief as he was under the impression his mouth and brain had disengaged from one another after watching that scene unfold.

‘I don’t know...what did you do to get yourself here before?’ The elder man asked actually being helpful for once.

Max blinked and suddenly he found himself back in the pit lane amongst all the chatter and the excitement before the race restarted. He tried to scan the lane again, intertwining between people, looking out for Charles but without much hope. He heard a loud shout from the pit entry.

‘Charles?’ Charles are you ok?’ He heard someone call out.

He spotted Charles looking in a world of his wondering down the paddock. The blood on his fireproofs not noticeable unless you were very up close but the blood on both his hands could be seen bright as day.

Seb ran to him from Aston Martin, by this point, everyone spotted the blood on his hands.

‘Charles?’ He asked grabbing the man by the arms, ‘Are you ok? Have you hurt yourself in the crash?’

Charles shoved his former teammate away and continued walking. Everyone went gone silent, watching the young man walk down the pit lane in the world of his own. Pierre ran past Max and straight for Charles, grabbing his arms tight to stop him from moving, similar to what Seb did just mere seconds ago.

‘Charles?’ Pierre said worryingly looking at the blood then noticing it on his fireproofs, ‘Petite Calmar? Que se passé-t-il?’

Max watched as Charles broke down in a sob, falling to his knees while still clutching Pierre bringing the Frenchman down with him. His arms were wrapped around his childhood friend, blood-smeared and contrasting heavily with the white Alpha Tauri fireproofs. Pierre was speechless as Charles gripped harder onto him sobbing heavier and louder than before.

The Red Bulls driver's heart shattered into another million pieces as he watched the pair on the floor with the rest of the drivers unsure of what was going on. His eyes caught movement as he saw a complete of stewards discussing something in the pit lane entry. Max presumed it was about restarting the race as the fans were still cheering eagerly and waiting patiently for it to begin. However, he noticed now a few walked over to the team principles and huddled them into a circle.

He watched as their faces went from annoyed at the delay in the start of the race to shock and horror, especially Christian. Max choked back some tears as he realised what was happening. Charles's sobs could still be heard throughout the pit lane as each team principle grabbed their drivers, seemingly ignoring Pierre and the Ferrari driver for now, and rushed them inside. He heard a steward next to him mention something about a driver's brief.

‘Are you ok?’ The other man asked said uncharacteristically unsure.

'I don't... I don't know...I can't...I can't go in there...I can't watch all of them get told....' he admitted while watching a steward walk over to Pierre whisper something in his ear then grab Charles tighter and planted his face in the latter man’s hair.

‘We can go back. You found out why he’s a mess outside your hospital room now.’

Max kept looking at his two friends sitting on the pit lane floor. Pierre removed his face from Charles’ hair. He had his back faced to Max so he was unsure whether the Alpha Tauri driver was crying or not but after a few seconds, he slowly started to stand up somehow picking up Charles with him, who was still wrapped to his chest. The Frenchman pulled his friend out and grabbed the side of his face leaning in, so their foreheads touched. Max could hear sobs and could just see the tears rolling down the Monegasque face. He nodded at something as Pierre led him towards the Alpha Tauri garage.

_No. I have to face it. I have to face it like them_

‘Let’s go. I know where they’ve been taken.’ Max announced as he headed towards the nearest garage, the F1 driver in him quickly glimpsing around to see if he could note anything different or useful for his car. He then shook his head when he realised, he wouldn’t be returning to his car.

He manoeuvred himself through the building and climbed up the stairs to the briefing room. The door had been shut highlighting to the outside world that what was going on in there was important and not meant for public knowledge. Max placed his hand on the door with slight hesitation but opened it regardless. He needed to see the consequences of what he had done.

When he entered the room, he saw all the drivers (minus Pierre and Charles) sitting and talking amongst themselves. A few were annoyed at having to be called up here, a few were confused about why they were here while others were fine with having the extra break from driving. Michael Masi was standing awkwardly at the front evidently to shocked to sit down while everyone chattered.

‘If I could have everyone’s attention please.’ His voice exclaimed filling the room and overpowering the murmurs of the drivers, ‘I know that this is very out of the ordinary but myself and the stewards have decided to cancel the rest of the race.’

He watched as the drivers were all about to contest and argue against them, especially those in the mid-field, all of who had tenths of seconds away from each other last time Max checked. They wanted to race for the points available and the Dutchman felt even worse than he did before realising that he’d taken the opportunity away from them. No wonder they were outside his hospital room; they were annoyed about the missed points to gain a high spot in the championship.

'Before any shouting or disputes occur, there has been a situation. Charles was wandering around the edge of the track after his DNF when he stumbled upon…oh God… there’s really no easy way to say this…stumbled upon Max who wasn’t in the best condition…’

‘What do you mean not in the best condition?’ Lewis asked concerned and confused. A million thoughts entered all the driver’s heads. Did Max get into a fight? Ger drunk? Smash something up again? Max shut his eyes in anticipation of what was about to come. He tilted his head upwards trying to prevent the tears from streaming down his face. He needed to find new techniques.

‘Umm, we have reason to believe that Max attempted to take his own life.’ Michael said softly and as precise as he could trying not to look at the surprise and horror on the driver's faces, ‘Charles found him in one of the bathrooms surrounding by a lot of blood-‘

Max opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling. He exhaled deeply before resuming his gaze at his fellow drivers. He tried not to focus on anyone in particular, but his eyes scanned to where Daniel looked like a rabbit caught in the headlines; his eyes and mouth wide open, body frozen in shock. Lando uncrossed his arms, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He interrupted Michael.

‘No…He wouldn’t…He could have been attacked.’ The McLaren driver piped up his voice choked in emotion.

‘He wasn’t attacked. I don’t want to go into too much detail but there were two clear sources from where the blood was coming from on his body. There was also a letter found in his Driver’s room.’

Lando leaned forward, and for a second Max believed he would fall off his chair and started crying loudly. Alex, who was sitting next to him grabbing his arms and pulled him into a hug. Everyone looked lost and confused.

‘Which hospital is he being taken to?’ Daniel asked breaking the silence (apart from the sobs from Lando).

‘Whatever the nearest one is.’

‘I’m gonna go.’ The McLaren driver said standing up. He started walking towards the door, where Max was currently standing and paused. Instinctively, the Dutchman reached out to touch the Australians shoulders but before he could another voice echoed through the room.

‘I’ll go too.’ Lando said standing up and wiping his eyes.

‘I’ll go as well.’ Carlos said standing up from the second room where he was sat behind Alex. Max didn’t miss the unsaid ‘because I want to make sure you’re ok’ meant for Lando. He strangely didn’t care that the Spaniard wasn’t going for his welfare but the Brits instead. Someone needed to look after Lando.

‘Can you take Pierre and Charles with you?’ Michael asked one of them, ‘I want someone from mental health to have a word with Charles about what he saw.’

The three of them nodded. Max’s arm was still outstretched towards Dan but he pulled it back when Lando started making his way over and the three of them left.

Max looked at the three drivers leaving then glanced back to the others. He saw how all the other drivers were still in shock, some held their head in their hands while others were covering their mouths. The Dutchman stepped backward unable to cope with seeing what would happen next. He turned around and ran out the door and kept running till he was back on the pit lane.

The Red Bull driver felt sick. He knelt down into the tarmac and started gagging, vomit threatening to come up. He felt a slight touch on the back of his left shoulder. The slight touch turned into a gentle grab and Max felt himself being pulled back through the door he entered earlier. He collapsed back into the hospital corridor door in front of Lando and Carlos.

‘I didn’t…’ Max started before almost vomiting again. He took a moment and took a deep breath, ‘I didn’t realise that I would hurt them so much. I didn’t intend for this to happen. I thought they'd find me later. I'd thought they'd be confused and sad. I didn't…'

He saw someone kneel down in front of him. For a second, he was surprised that the old man would take this much interest in his life, but he quickly realised it was Marianne. He reached out and touched his arm gently, trying to reassure him somewhat. He took a deep breath a sighed, nausea drifting away. Slowly he stood up, Marianne’s hand still on his arm supporting him.

He gazed at her and saw a sadness in her eyes. He looked familiar but he couldn't place it. It wasn’t the same sadness he saw in this friend's eyes during this year; that was more pity than sadness but he didn’t know anyone else who had been sad for a long period of time.

‘I’m so sorry about your dad and the door…I wouldn’t have…’

‘It’s fine.’ Max replied.

It wasn’t fine naturally. None of what anyone had witnessed today was fine; well the on the sofa memory was but even that was distorted with sadness now. Max gave a small smile at the girl to reassure her everything was fine and that he had forgiven her for it. It wasn’t like it was a forgotten memory either. It had stayed with him his entire life.

‘Your friends look really upset.’ She stated not knowing what else to say, ‘I don’t think anyone has updated them on your condition since you’ve been here.’

‘They…they found out in the worse way possible.’ Max replied his voice hoarse, ‘I didn’t…I should have done it away from the track.’

Max looked at Marianne, who looked at him again with sadness. Even though she didn’t go with him through the door, she seemed to understand what he was saying.

‘I think it would be hard on them regardless of where you did it. It’s just unfortunate that one of them found you…I mean…that’s what I’m guessing at with the crying etc.’

Max nodded then turned to look at his friends then to the door, the one that Lando kept gazing at. He wondered what kind of condition he was in now. How much longer he had left? How much longer he had left to fight. He walked towards the door curious about what was happening behind it. He pressed gently into the handle and realised that he could touch it, properly feel it like it was an actual door. He looked back at the other man who watched Max cautiously. The Dutchman pushed on the door handle and opened it with ease. He stepped through timidly not sure what to expect.

The room itself was filled with doctors and nurses running around the patient. They were talking in Spanish, so Max didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. Slowly, he walked toward the bed and his stomach dropped when he saw himself lying there. His body was pale, almost opaque. His eyes were sunken and dark as if he’d been punched. He looked down at his right wrist and noticed how it had been bandaged up. There was no blood seeping through it so the doctor must have done a pretty good job at fixing it up.

It was then that he heard the constant noise in the background. Max walked across the room, avoiding the doctors as he did so and looked at the heart monitor. He was flatlining. The old man was right, his heart had stopped. He suddenly noticed the doctor doing CPR on him repeatedly. Next to the doctor was a piece of equipment Max was unfamiliar with. A bag of blood was attached to it and he followed the tube into his arm where he was being fed into.

Feeling nauseous yet again, Max left the room in a hurry almost bumping in Marianne as he did so. He was about to ask her and the elder man a question when a voice piped up from the chairs.

‘I don’t understand.’ Lando sobbed out into Carlos’s chest, ‘Why has it done this?’

‘I don’t know pequeño.’

‘Like did we miss something. People don’t do this randomly.’

‘He’s hadn’t been himself for a while now.’ Pierre piped up trying to console Lando as well as Charles now, ‘I don’t know why but he was growing distant...I thought that maybe he just wanted to focus on racing. I didn’t think...’

Everyone fell silent again and Max for the 100th time that day felt tears in his eyes, threatening to fall. He knew that his decisive action would have huge consequences, but he didn’t think his fellow drivers would feel them as strongly as they are.

'I should... I have noticed.' Another familiar voice piped up.

The voice sounded so broken that Max’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

‘I should have noticed.’ Daniel repeated, ‘I should I have known something was wrong. I did know something was wrong but I thought hey, it’s Max he’ll get over it. I should have just ignored all those thoughts in my head and banged on Max’s door, spoken to him, helped him. I didn’t. I was so sure he’ll be fine and it’s just a tough season but he’ll bounce back. He’ll be fine. Fuck...I should have just tried harder to talk to him and now he’s dying. He’s dying and there’s so much I haven’t told him and all the fucking consolation I get is one line in that fucking letter he left in his driver's room...’

It was then Max noticed that one of Daniel’s hands was formed into a fist. He could just make out the scrunched-up ball of paper held inside it. Max shut his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands against them trying to prevent any emotion from coming out. It's all gone wrong. They weren't meant to find the letter yet. He thought his parents would get it and it passed on to them through message or something.

‘Dan...’ Lando whispered breaking away from Carlos’s hold, ‘You couldn’t...’

‘But why didn’t I Lando? Why did I miss this? There must have been massive signs.’

‘We tried everything we could at the time.’ Pierre said acting as the voice of reason in this situation, ‘With what we knew, we did everything we could.’

‘But it wasn’t enough.’ The Australian said sinking to the floor.

Max walked over so he stood in front of Daniel and knelt down, so he was level with him. Slowly, the Dutchman reached out and held his hand against the Australians face as he did was Charles earlier. He rubbed his thumb along his cheek despite not being able to properly feel the skin underneath it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Max whispered as if Dan could hear him, ‘I just...I didn’t know how else to cope. What else to do. You deserved a friend who is so much better than I am...you all do.’

Max removed his head from Daniels, just has the Australian inhaled a sharp breath. Max flinched for a second thinking that he was the reason behind it but then thought it was probably due to the tears running down his face. He looked across at the other drivers specifically Charles and Lando, who were still crying. Christ, he hoped someone had spoken to Charles about what happened.

‘Pierre said they did everything they could. I need to know what he meant. Can I do that? Can I go back and see what he meant?’ Max pleaded looking up at the elder man.

‘If he’s talking about that this year then yes. I don’t see why not. It technically still counts as the present.’ The other man replied walking back over to the door from entered earlier and opened it. The Dutchman took a deep breath and strolled through the door with all the bravery and courage he could muster.

Max noticed that they were back on one of the racetracks. He wasn’t entirely sure which one, but the lack of face masks and social distancing indicated that it was indeed 2021. He could see a flurry of engineers, strategists, and team members around but no drivers. The Red Bull driver placed his hand to the back of his head and glanced around trying to find any clue to where he was.

‘I can’t see any of my friends.’ Max wasn’t sure if he muttered that to himself or was informing the other man. He’d noticed that Marianne hadn’t joined him on this one. She probably still felt very guilty about what happened earlier.

'Is there somewhere where you all go to socialise?' The man asked looking at him.

Max didn’t reply, thinking for a few seconds. If his memory served him right then this could around the time he no longer sat with his friends, the time when they started to give up on him and when he found socialising difficult and hide away in his driver’s room.

Realising where his friends maybe, he quickly walked to said location in the paddock. He could have tried to the blinking technique from earlier but Max was too scared to try and figure out how these door thingys worked. He kept walking which to some could be classed as jogging, when he came across the room he wanted. In there was the young driver’s group, as they were dubbed, all sitting near each other casually eating. He saw Daniel perched on the side next to Lando, also engrossed in the talking subject. All of them suddenly erupted into laughter and Max could see that the youngest McLaren driver was having difficulty not spitting out his food he’d just taken a bit off.

Max walked closer to the group knowing that they couldn’t see him and softly smiled as they continued to talk about Lando’s attempts at Golf. Carlos was trying to give his ex-teammate advice while Alex was suggested that his girlfriend could teach him if he was so determined to play. George made a quick comment that Lando might be better off sticking to racing.

Max was so engrossed in their chat and quickly saddened by how much he had missed this. He had missed their random talks, taking the piss out of each other. He’d missed smiling and being happy. He’d missed making his friends laugh by making a stupid comment or having something witty to say in response to anyone throwing shade at him. He’d missed his friends. He also completely missed Lewis walking up to the group, sandwich in hand, looking concerned.

‘Is Max ok?’ The 7th time world champion asked when he arrived at the table of the young drivers and Daniel, who smiled up at him welcomingly, ‘I haven’t seen him around properly in ages and when I do, he seems… I don’t know…distant.’

Everyone stopped eating or laughing and paused. None of them looked like they knew what to say to him. Max didn't blame them. He and Lewis weren't particularly close. They respected one another as racers but that was it.

‘We don’t know.’ Alex piped up eventually, ‘He’s just growing distant, even in the Red Bull Factory.’

'I invite him to play loads of games.' Lando interjected, 'and he declines all of them.'

‘I send him messages, gifs, memes, etc.’ Pierre said gaining himself a somewhat jealous look from Charles, ‘He reads them but doesn’t respond.’

‘I haven’t seen him out here in a while.’ George added joining the conversation, ‘We attempted to talk to him when he was here, but we only got…what?... a few sentences at most.’

'You tried anything, Dan?' Lewis asked looking towards the Australian in what Max could only recognise as hope. Clearly, everyone thought that Daniel had some special influence over Max. He would admit though, there was a time he would have done anything the now McLaren driver asked of him and deep now knew that he still would today.

‘I’ve text him, called him, invited him out for nights out in Monaco but he just rejects them all. I don’t know... I think he’s having a tough season and just wants to focus.’

‘He is spending a lot of time in his drivers’ room though.' Alex said looking at George as he did so as if to confirm what the Brit said earlier was indeed true, 'I think he keeps scanning date, etc.'

‘Pressure from Christian no doubt.’ Pierre mumbled taking a sip of his water. Everyone sadly smiled over to the Frenchman.

‘Try and keep inviting him to stuff. Once he improves and gets back on the podium he’ll be fine again.’ Lewis suggested shrugging not sure what else to say, ‘I can try and invite him to play COD with me.’

‘Don’t worry about it. If he’s rejecting Lando, he’ll reject you...no offence.’ Alex replied.

Lewis smiled at Alex softly and shook his head chuckling slightly. If anything, at least Max knew why all his friends kept staring at him during breaks now. The Brit continued ‘Still. Maybe just keep an eye on him. He’ll probably come over to you when you least expect it.’

The other drivers nodded, and Max watched as Lewis left, coincidently bumping into his younger self who was on the way to the Red Bull garage. The Mercedes driver gave a small smile to younger Max. The Dutchman watched himself attempt a small one back but couldn’t help but notice how he bad looked. Max believed he didn't look any different to his normal appearance during these months, that he was hiding everything well, but he was wrong. Even though he was wearing a cap, he could see that his hair was a mess, he was sitting awkwardly, picking at his food but what surprised Max the most was his eyes. His eyes looked sad. The same sadness that Marianne’s held earlier. It wasn’t another person’s eyes he recognised it from, it was his own.

‘They seem really concerned about you.’ The older man said and again, Max forgot he was there.

‘Hopefully, they'll become less interested in me. I don't come running back to them if that's what you're wondering.'

‘I don’t know…’

Max turned to look at the elder man confused but in return, he was rewarded with a soft, mysterious smile.

‘Come on.’ He said still looking over at the Red Bull driver, ‘I think there’s somewhere else you should visit.’

Before Max could contest or question what was about to happen, the other man grabbed Max’s arm and suddenly he appeared in a bedroom. He instantly knew that it wasn’t his though he did look very familiar as if he had seen it somewhere before. The Dutchman scanned the room and noticed two things. Firstly, the date. It was the week before the Spanish race; just over two weeks until today and secondly, the simulator placed near the bedroom door. It suddenly hit him where he was.

The gaming chair spun around to reveal Lando, headset on scrolling through his phone, ignoring his monitors and game on the start menu. He looked upset and worried and Max didn’t want to do anything else except run over and hug the younger man, asking what’s wrong. The Brit clicked on his phone screen and placed the phone on the side as the dialing tone filled the room.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ He heard a familiar voice speak.

‘Nothing much really. Just…meh.’ Lando replied leaning back against the chair still looking upset.

'Well, it's clearly something.' Daniel replied, 'You don't call me otherwise.'

Lando shrugged even though the Australian couldn't see him. He looked at his feet, currently pulled so he could sit in what looked like a really uncomfortable crossed-legged position.

'Have you heard from Max at all?' He asked leaning back in his gaming chair fiddling with the armrest.

‘No… I might go up there later and see if he wants to get food or something.’ He heard Daniel reply over the speaker, ‘His favourite restaurant is doing takeaways currently.’

‘Sweet. I hope he goes. I’ve been really worried about him lately.' Lando replied still fiddling with the armrest then glancing back at his unloaded game. He looked unsure of himself Max noted but yet still asked Daniel, 'Do you think it's the media? That Max is getting upset over it all?'

‘I don’t know. It’s never really bothered him before this badly. There have been a few times in the past that he’s admitted to me but it’s never caused him to pull away from all of us.’

'I don't know what to do about him anymore. Do you think we should call someone?' Lando asked worriedly.

‘Like who?’ He heard Daniel ask.

‘His mum or sister? I don’t know. Someone closer than we are.’

The phone line went silent for a few seconds. Only the sound of the Australian breathing can be heard.

‘I don’t know...It might make him angrier and I don’t want to lose him completely.’

‘Yeah.’ Lando muttered, ‘I feel like he's just in our grasp you know? Like he's there at the end of our fingertips but one push and bam. He's gone from us.'

‘We’ll keep trying with invites and stuff yeah? Keep him out of his drivers’ room so he can socialise with us more.’

‘He just looks so sad all the time.’

Max kept his gaze at Lando’s upset figure as he ended the call with Daniel. He recalled how sad his eyes looked when Lewis smiled over at him. He thought he was hiding it well, that he was portraying ice cold, not sad. Ice cold was Kimi. No one bothered Kimi ever. Why were they so focused on him?

_Because they’re your friends_

He closed his eyes at that thought and shoved it to the back of his mind.

_No. I need to let go._

But he couldn’t.

He thought back to the previous months. Should he have accepted their invitations out? Should he have made more of an effort with them? At the time he couldn't. He knew that if he did, he would crumble and all his anxieties and insecurities would come out and he’d look so much more weaker than he already did.

No.

He made the right call.

His friends didn’t need his burden on their shoulders.

The Dutchman took one last look at his friend before retreating back through the door. Marianne ran over to him.

‘Well? What happened?’

‘They tried. They had plans to try and involve me in more stuff but I kept rejecting them.’

‘See, they do love you. They are your friends.’

Max nodded as he looked over at the five drivers still sat outside his hospital room door.

‘It’s just as well really.’ He muttered.

‘Just as well what?’ Marianne asked confused.

‘That I started to isolate myself from them. They’d feel so much worse if I started hanging with them again.’

‘Max...no’

‘I keep telling you, they never stopped caring. Look at them over there. They didn’t forget about you, Max.’ The elder man exclaimed standing over Max as if that would help get the point across easier.

The Red Bull driver sighed as he was met with yet more resistance from the pair. He didn't understand. They had never met his friends before. Marianne hadn't and the elder man only through Max's memories. He had no idea how they really worked or what they were really like. Why couldn't they take Max's word for it that they would be better off without him? At least he wouldn't be causing them upset and worry every week.

‘They’ll get over me.’ He muttered facing the man and Marianne, ‘It just raw at the moment isn’t it? Once the shock has gone away, they’ll be fine again. Once they’ve realised I’ve gone for good, they’ll have nothing to worry about. Next Sunday they’ll be racing like anything. They have no deep attachments to me, do they? I isolated myself from them for ages. They’ll get over me soon enough.’

The man tilted his head to the side of his head and squinted at Max, ‘Then why are they still here?’

‘They’re probably overwhelmed with it all? To see if it was true, that I did take my own life. They’re probably waiting for my mum to come, to support her. They’re not heartless people. I mean if someone I was once friends with killed themselves, I would want to show my support and help their parents.’

‘You really are adamant that your alone in the world, aren’t you?’ The other man stated looking at Max confused, ‘Listing off those excuses. You really can’t admit that you’re loved.’

Max sighed as he rubbed his eyes and looked the elder man straight in the eye.

‘What would you know? You’ve seen what three memories of my life? You really don’t know anything about me. You don’t know how toxic and unlovable I am. How self-centered I am. That I only care about racing. How I push people aside just so I can win. You have no idea who I am. You’re wasting your time trying to save me or whatever it is your doing because if there's one thing I can't be then it is loved. Love doesn't happen to people like me.’

Max slid to the floor once more coincidently opposite Daniel, but the former refused to look over at him. He didn’t want to see the blank stare where it should be a massive smile paired with a laugh. The Dutchman titled his head back, so it lightly banged the hall and shut his eyes once more.

'My friends left.' Marianne states breaking the small silence that had occurred over the trio, 'The police called one of them once they found my details, etc. They came to visit me once, realised I was in a coma then left.'

‘I’ve only been here for what? Hours? Minutes? They still have time to leave.’ Max muttered.

‘They won’t.’ She replied back, ‘The man opposite you, Daniel, he won’t.’

‘Why do you think you know everything about me? Both of you!’ Max exclaimed getting annoyed at the pair.

‘I watched my friends while they visited me. I heard what they said. My friends asked why did I go off on my own. Why didn’t I find someone to help me. Your friends...your friends are blaming themselves, asking themselves what more _they_ could have done to help you. They’re not asking why you didn’t go for help, why you didn’t sort your head out, they’re asking what more _they_ could have done to save you. I might not know everything about your life but I know a decent group of friends when I see some and I know that despite what horrible things you claim to have done to them, they still love you. You’re not unlovable. Those five are proof of that. That guy Daniel in particular.’

‘They shouldn’t.’ Max whispered eyes still closed and head still against the wall.

'But they do. You owe it to them to fight. You owe it to that pair of haven't stopped hugging and consoling each other since they arrived and who, by the way, are probably a couple judging by the body language but that's a different issue. You owe it to that quite hot man and that 16-year-old boy-‘

‘He’s 21.’

‘That 21-year-old boy sat there, who's age I'm quite relieved about, as they both also give off gay couple vibes but again time and place. He is absolutely confused about why you would do this and finally, you owe it to heart eyes over there who clearly loves you and who you clearly love back and I guess you were both too scared to admit it but you owe it to him. You owe it to all of them to fight.’

‘They’re not the issue.’ Max admitted opening his eyes and facing Marianne, ‘I would love to talk to them one last time. If it was just them then I would. I would go back but I can’t.’

‘Why?’ She asked twisting her body so she was sitting 90 degrees to him. She reached out and touched his upper arm in a comforting manner.

‘When I wake up, nothing’s going to change. I’ll wake up, my dad will come storming in, drag me up from the bed and shove back into the shitty, broken Red Bull car. The media will be on me. Max Verstappen, the guy who tried to kill himself. Look he’s crashed out again. Why did he bother fighting?’

‘Your dad can’t control your life forever.’ Marianne replied gently focusing on the issue of Max’s dad first.

'Evidently, he has.' Max muttered wiping his eyes, 'I'm here.'

‘Why didn’t you fight back? Prove him wrong, prove the media wrong that you can do it and on your own terms.’

‘You've met my dad. You’ve met him at his worst. I was eight. Eight years old and look what he did to me. You think I can fight back against that. It’s not just him anyway, it’s the media, my reputation. I can’t break without someone somewhere posting about it. I was trapped in an endless cycle and I wanted out.’

‘I think you can fight back.’ The older man interjected, ‘I think you can fight back perfectly well if you put your heart to it.’

Max looked up at the man and sighed defeated.

‘You really don’t know me mate.’

The man smirked at Max, the first positive emotion he'd shown the F1 driver, and held his hand out towards him. Max looked at the hand confused but grabbed onto it nonetheless. He was pulled up and dragged to another door. This one however was different. This wasn't identical to the others. It wasn't brown, boring, and had a gold handle. The door was white, clean, and had a nice silver metal handle that looked warm and friendly. The man opened the door and smiled at Max.

‘I think you’ll surprise yourself.’ The man stated.

Max looked through the door in dread of what could be on the other side. Not his dad, anything but his dad.

‘You’re not coming with me either of you?’ Max asked hoping he was wrong, and they’ll be right behind him as per. Funny how things change.

‘No. This one is a little special.’

With that, the man pushed Max through the door smiling as he did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Living in the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max wakes up and finds himself in 2026. What does the future hold? Will it lead Max to happiness or despair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again!  
> Thank you for all the comments and Kudos.  
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter- it is a little different from the rest  
> As always comment/Criticise

Max blinked repeatedly and slowly opened his eyes, though if truth be told, he couldn’t remember shutting them. He moaned quietly and used his arms to propel himself into a sitting position. He felt a soft mattress below his hands and instantly Max assumed he was in the hospital.

_Did he throw me back to the land of the living? Oh, fuck this isn't going to be pretty._

Rubbing his eyes slowly in order for them focus, he felt a small cool metal come into contact with his face. Max paused cautiously, taking the hand away from where it was previously and inspected it further. A ring was currently sat on his ring finger gleaming in the dimmed room as if to highlight its existence to Max.

_What…What?_

The Dutchman stared at the ring as if it were an alien. He spun it around to get a closer look. The first thing he noticed was the simplicity of the ring; a nice shiny gold and embedded at the top was what Max presumed was a very small sapphire.

_Why am I wearing a ring?_

Max then looked past his hands and into the room he was currently in. It was not a hospital room but rather a bedroom. A very domestic bedroom. It wasn’t sure what was worse; waking up here or at the hospital. The room itself was quite basic. Opposite the bed, there was a TV resting of a chest of draws, some of which were open with clothes spilling out. He looked to his left and noticed a window with light blue curtains closed in front of them, the sunlight breaking through. He took note of the various other pieces of furniture in the room, including a door to the en-suite.

_Where the fuck am I?_

Carefully, he got out of bed, a bit wobbly and made his way over to the bathroom. He shut the door and quickly located the mirror to take in his appearance. Aside from the fact that he was only wearing boxers, Max’s eyes widen in shock as he quickly noticed how much older he looked. Despite being cleanly shaven, he could tell that he had grown a few years since he passed through the door the elder man pushed him through. There were a few small wrinkles around his eyes. His hair was longer and in desperate need of some gel. His body was still in a similar shape indicating that Max was at least keeping fit and healthy wherever he was currently.

He prodded and poked himself for a few minutes, taking in his appearance. He took a deep breath, glanced in the mirror to take one final look before leaving the bathroom and locating his phone on the bedside table. Before he even switched his phone on, he glanced at the clock behind it; 7:32 am, 15/07/2026.

_What?_

2026? He was in 2026. He was five years into the future? Before Max could even comprehend the year that he had fallen into, a soft moaning from the bed froze Max for the second time that morning. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes were wide as fuck right now and his breathing had picked up considerably.

'Hey, gorgeous. What you doing up this early?

_What the fuck? What? No!!! Why??_

Ignoring his internal panic, Max adverted his eyes away from the clock and towards the bed where a very sleepy Daniel Ricciardo…a topless Daniel Ricciardo, was slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He held his hand out as if he wanted Max to grab it.

_What sort of joke is this?_

Daniel looked over at Max concerned and shook his hand out again indicating that he desperately wanted the Dutchman to take it. Slowly, the Red Bull Driver clasped his hand into the Australians and noticed how it didn’t feel strange but familiar. He looked over to the man and watched as a huge grin appeared on his face. Before he could even greet him, Max felt himself being pulled forward. He landed on the bed with a mighty thump. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the Australian towering over him, grin still present on his face.

‘Hey.’ Daniel said moving one of his arms and stroking his face. He noticed that both of them were only wearing boxers.

_Oh My God_

‘Hi.’ Max replied with a shaky voice trying to stay focused on the face in front of him and not scan down his torso.

‘You’re still waking up huh?’ Daniel asked leaning closer to Max, who didn’t dare respond, ‘I know a way to fix that quickly.’

The McLaren driver leaned closer and Max shut his eyes in anticipation without even thinking about it. He felt the soft press of Daniels's lips onto his and Max couldn’t help but feel every single nerve in his body come to life. He knew that this was wrong, that this was seriously messed up, but it had been everything Max had ever dream and if this was his last moment before dying. If this was his last moment before going to heaven, hell or wherever then fuck it, it was going to indulge in his dreams. Daniel started nibbling Max’s bottom lip and he quickly replied by opening his mouth a little wider, both of their tongues clashing.

Max felt calm. He felt happy. He tried to ignore the fireworks going off inside his stomach as Daniel tugged at his hair. He tried to ignore how Daniel was pushing him deeper into the mattress. He tried to ignore how this could very easily turn from a make-out session into full-blown sex if Daniel kept doing this. He tried to ignore the sensation that he… was being watched.

Despite the fact that Daniel’s hands were roaming all over Max’s body and his tongue was deeply thrusted into Max’s mouth, the Dutchman couldn’t help but look over at the bedroom door. He kept gazing back over to it even with though the Australian was doing a good job at distracting him completely. He wasn’t sure why he kept looking over at the door like there was something behind it Max needed to see. It was beyond irritating as Max had dreamt of this moment right here; him and Daniel kissing in the mornings, bodies entwined. One of Daniels's hands rested on his hips causing Max to drag his attention back to the bed. 

The Dutchman soon got distracted by the door again. The McLaren driver must have noticed as he pulled away from Max and looked at him concerned but the lust and love were still evident on his face.

‘Are you ok?’ He asked stroking Max’s left cheek, ‘You don’t seem all there.’

_You don’t really know the half of it babe….babe…where the fuck did that come from?_

‘I’m just getting the sense that there’s something behind the door that’s all. It’s probably nothing.’ Max replied going up to kiss Daniel again, who accepted happily.

‘Hang on.’ Daniel replied when he pulled away slightly from Max, who frowned back. He jumped off the bed and strolled over to the bedroom door. Slowly, he pulled it open and the Red Bull driver could see from the corner of his eye his lovers face break into a grin, ‘Hey there little one.’

_Who’s he talking to?’_

Maybe they had a pet. A small puppy maybe? Max had always wanted a puppy.

He saw Daniel bend down as if he were about to pick something up. The Australian turned around and Max was shocked to see a toddler resting against his chest sucking on, what appeared to be a soft toy.

_Not a puppy then. Why is there a child here? Shit. Talk about throwing me in the deep end._

Daniel softly placed the toddler on the bed, who was still chewing the toy. Brown eyes look around the room in familiarity before they land on Max, the small child squealed in delight and clumsily crawled over to him. Instinctively, Max reached out inviting the toddler into a hug. The toddler crawled past Max’s open arms and dug their head straight into his chest and snuggled against his torso. He could hear Daniel chuckling and when he looked up, he could see nothing but love in his eyes. A deep love. The Australian climbed back into bed and placed an arm around Max as if to protect him and the toddler from danger.

_What the fuck is going on?_

On closer inspection, he notices that the toddler's hair is somewhat resembling Daniel's curls. Gorgeous black curls and his eyes are a deep chocolate brown that Max could happily stare at all day. The toddler is quiet again now, still chewing on that toy which Max touched gently and realised must be a honey badger, making Max smile softly. He was dressed in an adorable light blue onesie with lion’s facing roaring on the front. Just by looking Max could tell that the toddler was a boy. He threaded his hands through his small bundle of curls on his head to either soothe himself or the child. Max wasn't sure which one but what he did know that everything this child pointed towards Daniel. Maybe Michelle had another kid and they’re babysitting for the weekend?

_Why else would there be a kid?_

However, that plausible theory is soon discredited when the toddler in question looked up at Max, the toy falling from his mouth. He shifted his body clumsily so he can put his small arms above his head as if he were reaching out to Red Bull driver.

‘Papa, lift please.’ The toddler squeaked causing Max to freeze.

_What. The. Fuck_

He stopped functioning, every cell in his body froze as the toddler…his toddler…kept shaking his arms above his head indicating that he wants a hug. Max’s hands were still resting on his small back preventing him from falling backwards on the bed. He was surprised he someone successfully managed to do that.

‘Max?’ Daniel asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

Max shook his body slightly as if to unfreeze himself. Not wanting to risk any awkward questions, Max smiled down at his…son?... and picked him up slowly, realising how light the boy is and placed him gently higher up his body so he's sons head was resting in the crook of his neck. He'd noticed that the saliva covered honey badger toy had been abandoned and was lying on Max’s pillow in-between himself and Daniel.

_Nice. Thanks, kid._

Daniel must have noticed his disgust towards the toy as he carefully picked it up and flung it across the room, so it landed in front of the bed.

‘Nice! Now out carpet has saliva on it.’ Max exclaimed trying to look unimpressed with Daniel’s actions.

The Australian shrugged.

Christ. Were these the kind of problems he had to face in his future; saliva covered pillows and carpets. It was nothing compared to the problems he had to deal within 2021. No media, no failing cars, just him, Daniel and their son. He rested his head against Daniel’s shoulders and felt the soft puffs of air on his neck courtesy of his son.

‘I love mornings like this.’ He heard Daniel mutter next to him, ‘Calm, chill out mornings with nothing to do…’

Max softly smiled as instinctively he grabbed a better hold of their son, so he didn’t drop him on the bed.

_Christ that’s weird._

Yet this all felt so natural. Max knew that his son was waiting outside the door for them, he knew that his son wanted more contact with his papa to feel safe and loved. Max felt a gentle kiss be placed on his forehead as he looked at the bedroom wall towards the TV. He felt content, he felt happy, he felt at peace.

The small family sat there for a while before their domestic bliss was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Daniel sighed as he lifted his arm away from Max and clambered back out of bed to go and answer it. Max smiled down at his son, still threading his hands through his curls and watching his spaced-out look while he heard Daniel unlock the front door. Were they still in the Monaco apartment? The bedroom had a similar layout to his one back in Monaco so maybe…

‘Sorry it’s so early but we were just passing by. Where is the little lion anyway?’

Max’s stomach dropped when he heard the voice of Charles LeClerc echo through his apartment. Everything he witnessed only minutes ago through the other door came flooding back; Charles leaning over Max’s unconscious body, him sobbing on the pit lane floor; him sobbing into Pierre’s chest. Everything came back.

He barely noticed his son’s gasp and how he peaked his head out from the crook of Max’s neck as he heard the Ferrari drivers voice. Red Bull driver was still in a mind of his own that he didn’t feel his son slithered down his body nor see him crawled back across the bed. He just about broke out of his daze when he witnessed, how Lando would no doubt put it, the toddler 'yeet' himself off the bed much to Max's shock and horror. Was his son used to throwing himself off objects of great height? He needed to keep a better eye on him!

‘Uncle Charlie! Uncle Pear!’ His son shouting running unsteadily out of the bedroom door and no doubt into the arms of one of the drivers.

_When, the actual fuck, did his son become such a huge fan of Charles LeClerc?_

Despite feeling guilty about the Ferrari driver witnessed back in 2021, Max was still doubtful that they would become close friends. Slowly, he got out of bed, throwing on something appropriate to greet guests with before leaving the safety of his bedroom and entering the unknown.

He could hear his son giggling non-stop, which choked Max’s heart with emotion, as he opened the bedroom door. What he would do to hear that giggle every minute of every day. He witnessed with great fear at Charles holding his son under his armpits, throwing him a foot into the air before catching him again. Daniel was grinning at the scene, his body leaning against the kitchen door and having found a t-shirt, while Pierre had made himself comfortable on the sofa. Charles continued to throw the toddler into the air causing the giggling to continue and striking the fear of his son falling and smashing his head on the floor to grow in Max’s stomach.

_Fuck this. He’s not breaking my son!_

‘Don’t toss my son into the air LeClerc.’ Max stated from the bedroom doorway.

Charles grinned at Max then adverted his gaze to his son, who was laughing in his arms. Despite only knowing his son for half an hour at most, Max had no idea where any of his protective feelings were coming from. Apparently, it took him a week or so to get used to the idea of Victoria being around when she was born. This toddler must be hypnotic or something.

‘Papa’s no fun is he Benjamin?’ He asked the little boy in an unusually funny voice. Max quickly took note of his son’s name while frowning at the comment. Wasn’t he fun? Was he strict? Everyone has a fun and strict parent, but Max wasn’t super strict that he wasn’t fun right?

‘Papa best driver though.’

Max's fears melted away and were replaced with immense pride at not only his son wiping that smirk off Charles’s face but his son’s own belief in his driving skills. Is this what he was like to his own dad? Max knew he worshipped the ground Jos Verstappen walked on at a young age. Did his dad feel like this, watching his two-year-old son boast about how great a driver his dad is?

‘I think we better give the little on the present we got him.’ Pierre said changing the focus from the toddler destroying LeClerc’s career, which is could hear Daniel laughing over, to the item that he was holding in the bag.

Benjamin instantly saw the bag and held his arms out towards Pierre to take him. The Frenchman laughed as he carefully placed the gift down and took the small boy out from Charles’s arms.

‘You two spoil him really.’ Daniel stated shaking his head at the pair. 

'Well, this boy deserves everything doesn't he?' Pierre exclaimed bouncing him gently.

Max looked at Pierre confused by what he meant but didn’t dare to delve into the topic now. Hopefully, he would find out eventually if there was anything deeper behind the Frenchman’s words.

* * *

Charles and Pierre ended up staying for an hour or so much to the joy of Benjamin. During that time he’d discovered that yes, the pair were indeed dating before Max decided to end his life (the sneaky bastards) and that they were currently waiting for the arrival of their own child hence why they were so smitten with Benjamin, also known as Benny or simply Ben, so were always coming round to visit and pick up techniques.

The topic of weddings somehow came into conversation and Max made more discoveries. He and Daniel got married in the Netherlands about three years ago during the height of winter in the snow despite Daniel being a summer boy. The Australian claimed that he didn’t care about the snow as nothing could ruin the best day of his life (well joint with when their son arrived). He didn’t dare ask for pictures due to the fear of looking like an idiot in front of the others. Charles and Pierre had snuck off one free weekend during the race season and had eloped at Vegas of all places about two years ago. The Alpha Tauri driver claimed that it was perfect as they didn’t have to travel far for their honeymoon. 

‘Secret relationship, secret marriage I guess…’ Max thought as the others reminisced.

Not long after they left, Max relaxed on the sofa with his phone in his hand. Luckily, face recognition was still a thing, so his phone unlocked with ease. Benjamin was tucked under his arm tightly playing with some electronic drawing pad, that looked far too expensive for what it was, while Max swiped through various posts on Instagram and twitter and casually checked the F1 website to see the standings. He was saddened to see that Lewis had retired but he and Charles were in a battle for the championship title with Lando a close third. He couldn’t help but smirk at that.

‘Aren’t you meant to be playing online with Lando soon?’ Daniel asked coming into the living room and dropping down on the sofa next to him and their son. Benjamin looked over at Daniel and pushed the electronic drawing pad towards him. Daniel smiled down at their son in response, ‘Very nice Benny. You’re gonna be such a good artist when you grow up!’

The McLaren driver looked up from the drawing pad and over to Max, waiting for an answer about Lando.

_How the fuck am I meant to know?_

‘I’m not sure. I’ll message him now.’ Max replied unlocking his phone again.

Lando replied back instantly asking if he were free now, they could start. He unwrapped his arm from around Benjamin and proceeded to stand up but stopped when two small hands tried to wrap themselves around his waist. He looked down to see chocolate brown eyes looking up at him, similar to that of the puppy dog. It was the exact same look Daniel pulled on him once or twice.

‘What's up, little man?' Max asked stroking his son's hair.

‘Wanna play with you!’ Benny replied with his puppy dog face. His lips formed into an exaggerated pout. 

He looked across at Daniel who was laughing gently at the pair. Clearly, the Australian had taught him well. Max shook his head defeated, picked up the small boy and carried him over to the simulator. He carefully sat down and placed his son in-between his legs, giving him the opportunity to wiggle around if he wanted to. Max saw Lando come online and was almost caught off guard by how much deeper the McLaren’s voice started.

‘So what do you want to do? iRacing or COD?’

It took Max a few seconds to focus and recover. He felt small hands cover his own and saw Benny investigate his surroundings.

‘Benny’s with me so maybe not COD.’ Max replied stroking his son's hair which had evidently become a habit.

‘Oh. Put him on!’ Lando exclaimed excited causing Max to smile. He took the headset off and placed it softly over his sons head.

‘Say hello Benny.’

'Hi, Uncle Lando!' The toddler greeted excitedly while shouting into the mic.

Max laughed as he placed the headset back onto his own head and started up the game.

_Time to see if I’ve still got it_

* * *

Max was smiling smugly to himself as he discovered that he did indeed still have it. Although he could see how much Lando had improved over the years, the Dutchman still had a slight edge over the Brit despite his son trying to intervene and take the steering wheel for himself. 

While playing the game, Max had tried to find out more information about Lando’s current life. He would be lying if he said he was shocked that the McLaren driver and the not so new Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz were an item and somewhat engaged currently and in the middle of planning their summer wedding for next year. The pair were residing in London and had booked a manor house in Oxfordshire for the occasion as not only was it big enough to fit the hundreds of guests that were on their list but big enough for their dogs to run around, something Max was jealous of. The couple also took frequent holidays to Monaco to spend time with Max and his family, which brought the driver joy as it meant he was still pretty close to the other two drivers. Pretty soon the talk turned to his son.

‘Is Benny still yeeting himself off furniture?’ Lando asked through the mic.

_Ahh so it’s an ongoing problem_

‘Threw himself off our bed this morning when Charles and Pierre turned up. Almost scared me to death.’

'That boy has no sense of self-preservation.'

'He gets it from Daniel don't you?' Max asked looking down at his son, taking one of his hands and holding gently, 'You don’t care about papa’s state of mind, do you?’

‘Hmm bored now.’ The toddler replied causing Lando to laugh heavily through the mic.

‘You wanna say bye to Uncle Lando?’

'Bye-bye.' Benjamin said quietly. Even though this Max has only known his son for half a day, he already knew that his son being quiet was uncharacteristic of him.

‘Bye Benny! See you soon!’

With that, Max picked his son up and gently placed him on the floor. He watched with a sweet smile on his face as Benny clumsily stood up unbalanced and stumbled out of the room presumably to go play with some toys or with Daniel. How could he love something so much after such as short amount of time?

‘Where’s Denny?’ He heard Benny call from the living room. Max froze for the millionth time that day.

_Shit. I don’t have another kid, do I?_

‘Think he’s in papa and daddy’s room sweetheart. I’ll go get him.’ Daniel replied standing up from the sofa.

Max gave an internal sigh of relief as he realised that they were talking about the saliva covered honey badger toy from earlier. Shaking his head with laugher at the bizarreness of the situation, he turned back to his monitors and tried to finish his game with Lando.

* * *

The gaming session with Lando came to a natural end and pretty soon the pair said their goodbyes. Max glanced down at the clock and quickly realised how much time had passed by. Standing up and stretching slightly, he entered the living room expecting to find Benjamin on his play mat engrossed in some make-belief game. Instead, the playmat was empty. Max wasn't too concerned as Daniel wasn't in the living room either and toddlers still needed to nap right? Maybe it was nap time.

The Dutchman entered the kitchen looking for a snack and saw Daniel at the kitchen table with his earphones in. Not being one to miss an opportunity, he crept up behind his husband and wrapped his arms around his neck. Daniel jumped slightly not expecting the sudden affection causing Max to smile gently. Once the Australian noticed he was there, the Red Bull driver leaned in, so they were touching cheek to cheek, catching a whiff of Daniel’s scent as he did so. Christ, he didn’t realise how much he’d missed Daniel over these last months. Max was tempted to pull back as the rational part of his brain said he needed to stop getting close to Daniel. He made up his mind and have to face the consequences while the other part of his brain argued it was ok and he could indulge in his dreams on last time.

‘What you watching?’ He asked taking a closer look at the screen.

‘Nothing much, just that shitty tv show. The one you hate remember?’

Max did not remember, nor did he recognise it, but Daniel didn't need to know that. Instead, Max smiled softly, kissed Daniels neck and hugged him tighter.

‘Is Benny down for his nap?’ Max asked hoping his instincts were right and toddlers did indeed still need naps.

‘He had one not long after he left you. He should be on his play mat.’

Max frowned and slowly unwrapped his arms from around his husband, ‘He wasn’t there when I looked just now.’

Panic started to arise in Max. It’d not even been here a day, yet he had somehow managed to lose his son. He prayed that the front door was locked so that Benjamin was confined to only the flat and not halfway down the street by now. Max looked down at Daniel, who showed no sign of worry which was probably the only reason why the Dutchman hadn’t gone into a full-blown panic right now.

‘He’s probably in his bedroom. You know Benny. Can’t stay still for very long.’

Max was about to argue that they son stayed very still earlier sat in the sofa cuddled into his side while drawing but now wasn’t the time for an argument. The Dutchman left the kitchen and glanced into his son’s bedroom. He didn’t take in the décor or anything in that room, he was too focused on whether Benny was in there or not.

Small amounts of panic began to grow when Max couldn’t see him. Turning around, he looked in the living room again, seeing if maybe the toddler was playing around the sides of the sofa. A small breeze entered the flat just as Max was making his way to said location. The breeze froze him in his tracks and he paced across the living room door. He opened the balcony door and found his soon looking in-between the railings, gripping them tightly with his small hands. Max sighed a breath of relief. Their son was safe.

‘What you doing out here little lion?’ Max asked picking his son up slowly and gently resting him against his hip. He looked across as the harbour and could hear the cars and people go by. It was like it was an ordinary day, just an ordinary, boring day, ‘Papa’s been looking everywhere for you.’

_He’s fine Max. You’re just overreacting_

‘Watching the cars go fast.’

Something in Max stopped.

_‘Je ok lieverd?’ (You ok sweetheart?)_

_‘_ _Ja mam. Ik hou er gewoon van om de auto's snel voorbij te zien gaan.' (Yes mother. I just like watching the cars go by fast.)_

Max almost collapsed when the memory came flooding back to him. It took all his strength to keep himself composed in front of his son. He placed his hand behind his son’s back and held him a little tighter.

_It’s fine. He’s young. His parents are racing drivers. He likes fast cars. He wasn’t going to throw himself off the balcony. He’s two for Christ sake. Just because you almost threw yourself into oncoming traffic._

‘Papa?’ His son asked concerned. He looked up at Max and gently touched his cheek as if he was trying to reassure his dad that everything was ok.

‘I’m fine baby. Are you ok? Do you want to tell me or daddy anything?’

The Red Bull driver knew that he was overreacting and that his son probably just had a fascination with cars, but he didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to miss any sign that his son might be not happy with his life no matter his age. Max son placed his head back into the crook of his neck as if he was hiding from something. He shut his eyes and choked back his emotions. He couldn’t stop thinking that there was something heavily upsetting his son. He was only two. How did he fuck up parenting this bad? He clearly was a bad parent after all. He gripped his son tightly again and he walked back into the living room.

‘Daniel, can you come here for a second.’ He shouted lightly. The last thing he wanted to do was deafen his son.

‘What’s up sexy?’ Daniel said leaving the kitchen and Max rolls his eyes instinctively at the nickname, especially considering he used it in front of their son.

‘Benny is upset over something.’

Daniel’s whole composure changed, and he rushed over. Max let him take their son out from his own arms and he watches as he hides in his daddy’s neck this time. Max saw his husband looking over at him concern plastered all over his face as well as his own face.

‘Benny…Benjamin… sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ Daniel asked.

He twisted in Daniel’s arms as if to burrow himself deeper into his daddy’s skin. Max was under the impression that their son had Daniel’s genes not his but now he’s not so sure. Daniel never hid anything from Max, he had always been as open as a book but their son seemed to be following Max’s philosophy on feelings.

_Nature vs Nurture I guess_

‘You can tell me and papa anything. We won’t get mad I promise.’ Daniel said trying to coax out whatever was upsetting their son.

The couple heard a small mumble located around Daniel’s neck.

‘Can you repeat that sweetheart?’ Daniel asked stroking the toddler's hair softly.

‘No racing.’ He replied tears threatening to fall from his small eyes. His pouted lips like they had been earlier except this time, they were shaking with emotion and not there to manipulate Max into saying yes.

‘What?’ Daniel replied looking confused. Max was glad he wasn’t the only one.

‘Don’t like when you go racing.’

‘Why not baby?’ Max asked replacing his hand with Daniels and stroking his son's hair reassuringly.

‘You love seeing us race.’

‘Racing more important than me.’

Max’s whole stomach dropped at that sentence. Christ. He really was a bad parent. Had he been prioritising racing so much that his own son felt abandoned by him? By them both? He knew that he won a championship last year after the snarky comments that Charles kept making earlier but had it come at a huge cost. The Red Bull driver looked up at his husband in horror feeling somewhat reassured that the same horrified look was plastered on his face as well. Maybe he wasn’t a bad parent singularly. Maybe together they were horrendous parents. Maybe that’s why Benjamin was o clingy towards them? Maybe that’s why his kid loved Charles LeClerc of all people.

But it was more than that and Max knew it. Growing up racing was _the_ most important thing in the Verstappen household. Max made so many sacrifices in order to get to where he was today. His dad made so many sacrifices and he didn’t let his son forget it. It took Max many years to realise that his childhood was completely fucked up. He had no real friends, no life. Everything was racing. Racing was his life. Had he’d done the same to Benjamin. He was only two. Had Max prioritised racing so much that even his very young son noticed it?

‘What are you on about?’ Daniel asked trying to hide the shock, ‘Nothing is more important than you.’

‘You always leave me here.’

This was getting worse and it was taking every ounce of Max’s strength not to run away and cry in the bedroom at how upset his son sounded.

‘We leave you with Grandma Sophie and Auntie Vic though. You love Grandma Sophie and Auntie Vic.’ Daniel replied trying to make his son calm down.

‘Love you more.’

Max let the floodgates open as tears streamed down his face. He reached out to Benjamin. He couldn't be entirely sure whether he snatched him out of Daniel's arms or if the McLaren driver had placed him in Max's. He positioned his son so he was leaning gently against his chest and Max wrapped his arms around him tight and sat down on the sofa carefully.

'Listen to me yeah? Nothing is more important than you. You are the most important thing in both mine and daddy's life yeah?' Max said stroking his son's face and was somewhat reassured when he felt Benny nod against his chest, 'We don't like leaving you here either and we miss you like crazy. We just have to do a lot of practising otherwise papa and daddy get told off.’

He could still feel his sons' tears soak his t-shirt. Max didn't know what else he could do except hold his son tightly hoping that it translated as undying love. Daniel joined them on the sofa and wrapped his arm around Max, recreating their positions from in bed earlier.

‘Maybe we could think about bringing you to more races?’ The Australian suggested stroking his son's arm.

Benjamin took his head from out of Max’s chest and turned to look at his daddy.

‘Yeah. How about that?’ Max said stroking his son’s back, ‘You can come with us and be with us the whole weekend.’

_Gee, letting your son see you on a weekend. What a treat Max_

He softly felt a nod against his chest and Max gently lifted his son’s head to wipe away the tears, ‘You and daddy are my everything yeah? If you’re not happy, papa and daddy aren’t happy.’

His son nodded again although Max doubted he knew how meaningful the words actually were. Daniel joined them on the sofa and the Dutchman passed Benny back to him.

‘Come on. Let’s what your favourite tv show, yeah?’ He said tickling his son’s stomach causing him to giggle. Max smiled as his son's mood seemed to brighten up, but he couldn’t help but feel like a failure.

* * *

They had been watching the same show for nearly an hour and Max was sure he was about to go crazy. Children’s tv shows were filled with crap, weren’t they? Daniel had left to make some food for them so was free from the pain of watching characters stare creepily into your soul as they asked you a question. The only positive thing was that Benjamin would be multi-lingual by the time he reached nursery as he was sure he heard his son mutter some Dutch, English and German earlier.

A knock at the door pulled Max out from his hatred thoughts of TV shows. The Red Bull driver looked towards the door as a thud bashed against the wood. A rather heavy and angry thud. Max paused the TV show that Benjamin was supposedly watching but was now switching between that and playing with toys, placed his hand on his son’s head lovingly and went to answer the door. The loud knocking was persistent. Max rolled his eyes at the inpatient knocker muttering that there better be some big emergency for the way they were treating his front door.

When he opened it, his body froze as he was met with a pair of icy blue eyes. Max’s smile faded and he gulped in fear. Jos Verstappen marched past Max, almost pushing him aside as he stormed into the living room and saw the young toddler sitting on the ground. Benjamin looked up at whoever had entered the living room. His grandfathers' cold stare started to frighten him so he dropped the toy and started whimpering for his parents. Max quickly composed himself and also stormed into the living room, straight past his dad to pick up his upset son and held him close.

‘What are you doing here dad?’ Max asked.

‘So its dad now?’ He replied harshly, his eyes switched between Max and Benny, ‘Any reason why the boy is upset?’

‘ _Benny.’_ Max said stressing his name, ‘Is scared of you. You’re upsetting him.’

Right on cue, Benny hid his head into his dad’s neck and by this time, Daniel had appeared from the kitchen and paced over to his husband and son, standing slightly in front of them as if to protect them from something.

‘Upsetting him? I’m doing nothing to him. He must be even weaker than you were as a kid.’

Max froze and grabbed his son tightly, not once taking his eyes off his dad.

‘What you doing here Jos?’ Daniel asked with a snarl to his voice. Evidently, there had been no love lost between the pair in the future.

‘Just wanted to see my grandson and make sure you’re treating him right though by judging by the way he’s snuggled into your neck, I can see that there are some issues.’

‘He’s fine.’ Daniel replied harshly, ‘He’s happy.’

‘But weak.’ Jos replied back just as harsh, ‘I’m sure once you get him into karts, it’ll harden him up.’

‘He’s two and anyway, we’re only doing it if Benny wants to.’ The Australian replied back reaching out and grabbing his son's small hand.

‘That kind of attitude _Daniel_ is why I’m going to get legal custody over the boy. He doesn’t need that adult child and a complete fuck up bringing him up.’

Max went ridged at the words 'fuck up'. After all these years, after his championship, he was still a failure in his dads' eyes. What more could he do to be worthy of his dad's love? Why couldn't he just love Max as a normal father could? Why was he so different from everyone else? He barely registered the custody comment and it hit him that it must have been what Pierre was talking about earlier. It took Daniel taking a step nearer his father for Max to properly react it.

‘Try it. You won’t win. Not after everything you did to Max.’

‘I think you’ll find that my influence goes a long way doesn’t it Max?’

His father’s voice entered his head once again and Max cowered back in fear, his son still in his arms. Every single insult, every single hit, every single bit of emotional and physical abuse came flooding back.

‘Then again.’ His father continued, ‘Maybe not. Look at you cowering over there. Pathetic. I thought I stopped you from doing that. It’s times like this that I’m glad you named that boy a Ricciardo. He is an insult to the Verstappen name…still when I get my custody papers, I’ll soon beat it all into him.’

It was if something in Max broke. It didn't shatter more like a rip in half. It was if something that he had been pressing down for so long suddenly broke and escaped. He couldn’t let this happen. Not again. He was not going to let history repeat itself. He couldn’t let anyone go through the pain that he did. He didn’t want Benny to consider throwing himself in traffic at age 15 because it was too much. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want his dad anymore. Max handed his son to Daniel and stormed over to stand in front of Jos.

‘He is not weak. He is not talentless. He is my son and I love him. You are getting nowhere near him. You are not going to treat him the way you treated me. He is not living the life that I had, not one moment. I don’t care if the racing line starts with you and ends with me. I don’t care if he wants to be an artist or teacher or whatever. He is my son and I will be proud of him whatever he does in his life. You are not controlling him like you controlled me. I don’t care that I’m a fuck up in your eyes. I no longer care about your opinion. I am done trying to make you proud because I know that it is never going to happen. I don’t care if you hit more or punch me or kill me. You hurt my son, you come anywhere near him and I swear I will kill you first. I am a good father. I know I am, and I have nothing to prove to you. Now leave my home and never come back.’

Suddenly everything went blurry for Max. His surroundings all blended into one and he watched his dad disappear into a blurred mess. The apartment dispersed away like petals in the wind and Max was left in a white room alone with one door. He turned around and found Daniel and Benny gone. The door opened automatically and sucked Max through.

* * *

He fell through the door and landed harshly on his knees and started hurling. He hurled again, sick threatening to rise in his throat. Everything that he just lived through hit him hard; how he had a husband, a son, a happy life. Everything was perfect and it was gone. The reality had sunk in. He was never going to live that life. He would never have the opportunity to live that life. He would never meet Benny again. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and suddenly he felt the hot rough liquid come up. He wretched as sick left his mouth and splattered against the white floor. Max instantly crawled backwards away from it.

’What was that?’ Max asked tears in his eyes and his arm still wrapped around his stomach, ‘Was that even real?

Marianne's eyes were wide open as well as her mouth. She looked terrified at Max then glanced over at the elder man.

'That was your future. A possible future.' The man replied looking at Max without an ounce of emotion, 'Of course, I could show you another one...'

‘No.’ Max shrieked still kneeling on the floor, ‘No...please don’t.’

Marianne ran over to him and gave him an awkward sideward hug as he burst into tears. It was stupid. He was crying over something he never actually had. A husband that wasn’t his and a son that never existed. He pulled his arms up so they covered his face and cried into his arms.

‘Was it your dad? Did he hurt you? Was he hurting you?’

Max shook his head, face still covered by his hands, ‘No, he tried to take my son away.’

He couldn’t see Marianne’s facial expression but he could imagine they were of shock.

‘I can’t do it.’ Max said crying, his mouth tasting of sick, ‘I can’t do it. I can’t go back. I’m not worthy of that future. I’m not worthy of that love.’

‘He really did a number on you didn’t he?’ Marianne asked sliding down next to Max, ‘Your dad. He really has made you believe that you’re worthless to people. That you’re nothing. That racing is the only thing you can have in your life but look at what you saw, you had a son right? Racing is not your everything.’

‘That wasn’t real. My racing career is.’ Max whispered, ‘I failed at that and look where I am now. God, I can’t even do what I’ve been training my whole life for. My dad’s right, I am nothing and I am weak and useless and a failure.’

‘You stood up to him though.’ The elder man interjected, ‘In your future, you stood up to him just like I knew you would.’

‘I stood up for my non-existent son.’ Max corrected sniffing, ‘If he was shouting that at me alone, I don’t know. I don’t know if I would have had the guts to do it.

‘Non-existent, existent, no son, whatever. You stood up to him. In that moment, it was real. Your life was real and stood up to him.’ Marianne replied.

‘I didn’t even get to say goodbye.’ Max sobbed looking at the ground, ‘To either of them, any of them; Daniel, Benny, Charlie, Pierre, Lando. I didn’t say a proper goodbye to them in that world or back at home.’

‘You don’t have to say goodbye though Max.’ Marianne encouraged, ‘You don’t have to depart from them yet. You can go back and tell them how much they mean to you.’

‘No I can’t.’ Max sobbed harder, ‘I’ve been here hours, my heart is beyond repair. There’s no coming back for me.’

He subconsciously leaned into Marianne and she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. He could feel her rest her chin on the top of his head.

‘There’s still time Max.’ The other man said, ‘Every time you pass through a door time freezes for you. The reality is you’ve probably been flatlining for what 20 minutes at most.’

_20 minutes. Is that how long I’ve known these people for?_

‘You can still go back Max.’

'To what? I have nothing there.' Max shouted hysterically.

‘Now that’s not true.’ Marianne replied forcefully. Max flinched slightly and looked up at Marianne, who had removed her arms from around him and was grabbing his bi-ceps, ‘You have friends out there in that waiting area, you have a man that loves you. So what if 2021 has been a shit year, it doesn’t mean that all of them will be. You can come back from this stronger than ever.’

‘Max. Listen to me.’ The other man kneeling in front of him and looking him straight in the eye, ‘Your future has so much potential. So much love in it. You can’t throw that away.’

‘So what? Who’s to say my actual future is anything like that? Did you pick a happy one? Was that it? Did you go into my dreams and make them a reality? Did you create my son, my happiness? All that just to prove that I could fight him back? That I should fight back?’ Max asked rubbing his eyes with his arms and staring at the man.

‘The future’s a hard thing, Max. No one really knows what happens...there's so many things that can impact it, so many chances, so many decisions but from my experience and other people's, yes that was a potential future. And no I didn’t go into your dreams and create your son. That was there for you. That was one of many paths. What you did that there was purely you. Just you and no one else. Your instincts.’

‘But I was happy...’

That was it. That’s what was the nail in the coffin as it were. That was what Max was mourning over. That’s what Max had been mourning over his entire time here. That’s what Max has been mourning over for the past months. It’s why he always looked so sad. He was mourning his happiness in life. Not once did Max have his dads' voice running through his head during that dream…until he arrived. He didn't feel the pressure from Red Bull. It was like he had made it and his future as an F1 driver was sealed tight. He was loved.

‘Yeah...yeah you were.’ The man replied back smiling, ‘You can be happy again Max.’

‘I don’t know how to be. I don’t know how to do it. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know how to be happy again. All I could see was despair and darkness. I knew that I needed to die before it got too much. That’s why I’m here.’

'You're here because you truly didn't want to die. People who come here so they can fight for a second chance, Max. If you really wanted to do die you wouldn't be here, you would have passed on already. Max. You are here because you never really wanted to die. You on multiple occasions have said you did it because you couldn't see a way out of the vicious cycle in your life.

Max looked back at the elder man, tears still streaming down his face. He couldn’t deny anything else. He just didn’t have it in him. He was tired of pretending everything was fine back at home and now he’s tired of pretending that he wanted to die.

‘You know you didn’t want to end your life. Max. You have friends who love you, Marianne has said you even have a guy who loves you. You have a happy future ahead of you if you continue to work for it. You stood up to your dad and you can do it again. This isn’t your end Max. You need to fight and get back home.’

Max had stood up shakily by the time the elder man had finished his speech. He nodded and looked over at Marianne, who smiled shyly at him. He nodded to himself.

‘Am I going to remember any of this?’ He asked looking back at the other man, ‘Am I going to wake up with a new lease of life?’

'You won't remember it.' The man replied with a hint of sadness in his tone, 'But that doesn’t make this whole experience pointless. You won’t remember what you saw but you’ll have this feeling. You’ll have this fighting spirit. It maybe be soaked in self-hatred and depression and you’re probably going to feel worse when you wake up but it will get better and it will rise. Keep fighting. Fight through the pain Max and live.’

Max took a shaky breath and nodded again at the man.

‘I need to go back and face my demons now.’ Marianne said smiling, ‘I was too scared to when I arrived, but I need to go back. I need to face the doors.’

‘You can do it.’ Max responded smiling softly at her, ‘You have people out there who love you. Hopefully, you won't have an irritating girl opening random doors though.’

‘Hey! That’s uncalled for and for the love comment…I suppose if you do after the isolation stunt you pulled.’ Marianne said laughing and Max gently laughing with her, ‘I guess I will do.’

‘You ready to fight Max?’ The elder man asked grabbing his shoulder.

Max nodded back and smiled. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a shaky breath. The elder man led him to the end of the corridor where a white door was present. He felt a hand remove itself from his shoulder.

'You can do it, Max.' Marianne shouted to him.

‘You _can_ do it.’ The man behind him said, ‘I know you can.’

Max spun around to face his companions and possibly friends?

‘Thank you both so much. I’ll...I’ll won’t give up fighting. One more thing though. You never told us your name.’

The older man smiled, ‘It’s not relevant.’

Max looked at the man confused but smiled nonetheless and pulled down the door handle, a white light almost blinded him, but the Red Bull driver walked regardless into the abyss. The light got brighter and brighter until it turned to nothing.

* * *

He didn’t know where he was and it was too painful to open his eyes to look but Max did notice was that, firstly, he was lying down and secondly, there were to people gripping either one of his hands.

_Am I still alive?_

His mind went blank as he tried to recall what happened but suddenly, he found himself drifting off into his dreams, breathing steadily and heart rate beating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed it!


	5. Working Towards the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up Max discovers that everything around him, including himself, is a mess. Everyone wants to help but no one knows how? Will Max finally find some inner peace or return to his isolated, self-loathing state?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. The final chapter.  
> I am absolutely amazed by the reception this story has received!   
> I am so thankful you have all taken the time to read it and stuck by me.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.   
> Comment/Criticise if you want!

Max kept waking up for small intervals at a time. They usually lasted about a few seconds before dropping back off to his dreams or nightmares. He could barely open his eyes causing everything to be blurry and a mess. He couldn’t think, and his head was blank. The only consistent thing he noticed throughout his very small waking up periods was that both his hands were being held.

When he did eventually wake up properly and he could open his eyes without it hurting, the first thing he saw the white ceiling above his bed. His head was still empty, and he couldn’t piece together what was going on. The driver felt someone squeeze his hand causing a huge amount of pain to rush up his arm. He moaned and removed his hand from the person holding it.

He caught a glimpse of his bandaged wrist and everything came flooding back to him; the media, the DNFs, his suicide attempt. Everything. He ripped his other hand out of the unknown persons grip and reached across to his other wrist and tried to rip the tight and sealed bandages off.

He couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t be.

Whoever was sat with him realised what was happening and tightly grabbed his hand, preventing him from ripping off the bandages and pulling out the stitches. They were strong but Max was stronger and was able to break the persons grip on his hands and try to unravel the bandages.

‘No! No! No!’ Max screamed, ‘Let me go. Let me go!’

‘Liefje. No!’

It was his mums' voice, he could have sworn but it that moment he didn't care. The Red Bull driver heard someone sobbing to his left, it sounded like Victoria, but he didn't check. He didn't look. All that he was focused on was undoing what the doctors did to him.

The doors to his room crashed open and Max could see a flurry of people enter. He felt himself get pushed back so he was lying back on the bed, he briefly saw an injection and quickly his eyes shut again. The bastards had sedated him.

* * *

The second time he had woken up it was to voices, speaking Dutch. His head was still half asleep so Max couldn't hear the full conversation, but they sounded upset and talking about a mental health centre? He tried to wake himself up by forcing his eyes open but that only lead to him being almost blinded by the amount of light entering the room. He moaned in pain and felt both hands tighten around his own.

He looked to his left and saw his mum, she sat up off the chair smiling as she did so with tears in her eyes and stroked his hair softly. She kept muttering his name and how everything was going to be fine. His voice was caught in his throat so he couldn’t respond. He just nodded his head to reassure her even if he didn’t believe it himself. How was anything going to be fine after this? He heard a sob from his left side. Max adverted his gaze and saw his sister crying. When they made eye contact, she leapt up onto the bed and hugged him tightly. A pit of guilt lay in his stomach. Christ. Why didn’t he just die?

The Dutchman listened as his mother explained how he flatlined for 20 minutes straight and the doctors were very close to giving up on him. She explained how some his fellow drivers had been sitting outside since he arrived at the hospital and didn't want to leave without knowing he was ok. She explained how much her heart had broken when she heard the news and that she and Victoria were on the first flight out. She didn't explain where his father was. Throughout all this Max kept looking up at the ceiling; the white welcoming ceiling. He didn’t know why. There was nothing exciting about it, but it felt nice. He liked the colour white now. It felt familiar.

His dad visited the next day though with Christian and Helmut in tow. The Red Bull Principle kept asking Max why he didn’t say anything to anyone at the time as they would have helped him. The Red Bull driver doubted that very much. Helping him would have meant demoting him and Max couldn't bear that humiliation either. Helmut just wished him a speedy recovery and muttered he couldn’t wait to see him back on the track soon. He emphasised soon. Max just nodded.

On the third day, his family soon became replaced with drivers. Max had heard from his mother that it was Charles who had discovered the body and had been in a constant state of tears since. Despite everything, he did feel bad and even guilty for the Ferrari driver so nodded when he was asked if he was ok if the Ferrari driver visited him. All his friends wanted to visit him, not that Max particularly wanted to see them. He thought he was done with their friendship.

Charles had done nothing but cry at his bedside since he entered the room. Max didn't know how to respond and by the looks, it neither did Pierre, who had been dragged in here by Charles after begging the nurses to let him in as well and not have individual visits. The Monegasque was crying into Max’s hand and the Dutchman was very close to pointing out that his tears were making the bandages wet. He didn’t. He took one look at Charles and one look at Pierre before returning his gaze to the white ceiling which had become his solace throughout this nightmare.

Lando and Carlos came in next and although neither of them was crying, the young Brit was very close to tears. The Spaniard kept talking about all the news events and stuff he had missed while he was in hospital and was doing the majority of the talking. Lando piped up for a bit talking about a new game that had been released and he couldn’t wait for the pair of them to play it once Max was back at his apartment. The Dutchman didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t want to go back to his apartment. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay in this weird limbo where nothing was expected of him.

Daniel came in after them and somehow stayed until visitor closing hours. It was strange because the Australian wasn’t his usual talkative self. He was quiet and kept a hold of Max’s hand, clasping it tightly. He stared at Max as if he was trying to imprint every single thing about the Dutchman to memory. Normally Max would ask if he was alright, start the conversation perhaps but what was the point? Daniel would get fed up eventually and leave. They all would. Everyone got fed up with Max eventually and left him alone.

He was in and out of sleep again on the fourth day. His body was still recovering apparently. When he woke up around the fifth time, Max could hear an argument occurring from outside his room. He blinked his eyes a few times getting them into focus before turning his head 45 degrees and looking towards the hospital door as if he had X-ray vision. Despite not seeing them, he could hear his mother, father, Daniel and Helmut arguing over something. No doubt F1 related.

‘Once his wrists are healed, he can go back.’ He heard his father shout angrily at someone, ‘He needs to get back into racing quickly.’

‘The sponsors want an update and I don’t know what to tell them. Ideally, the sooner Max shows his face the better.’ He heard Helmut say with a tough tone.

'He can't. He needs proper care. Once he's discharged from hospital, he's going straight to that centre so he can get the help he needs.' His mother argued probably at both his father and Helmut.

‘It’s your shitty car that has done this.’ Daniel piped up, ‘If you were more focused on Max as a person and not a trophy, he would be fine.’

‘No one asked for _your_ opinion, Daniel.' His father exclaimed. Max could envisage the facial expression that he was pointing at Daniel, 'You have no part of this family or Red Bull. Why don't you just leave.'

Max shut his eyes and tried not to let any tears run down his face. Even though he was done with their friendship, Max wanted Daniel to be there. No one had asked him, however. No one had asked him about anything meaningful or important to Max since he woke up. The Dutchman noticed that the hallway had fallen silent until his hospital door swung open with great force. Daniel stepped into the room but froze when he saw Max staring at him. Tears were glistening in the Australian’s eyes and he looked done with the world. Cautiously he made his way over to one of the seats and sat down. He gently placed his arms on the bed and leaned in slightly.

‘I’m sorry about all that.’ The McLaren driver said, ‘Your dad and Helmut are insisting you go back to F1 for the next race and compete again. No one’s told anyone where you are or why you’re here only the Principles, owners and drivers know. Your mum won’t let you go. She wants you to go to that medical centre place with the counsellors and talk to them. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be racing either but what do they care. I’m not your family.’

Daniel looked simply broken and Max could have sworn he’d seen that facial expression before. Slowly, the Red Bull driver removed his hand from where it was resting across his stomach and reached out to lightly place it on top of Daniel’s resting one. The Australian looked up at Max shocked at the physical contact he was displaying but didn’t say anything about it. In return, Max gave his friend a small smile before resuming his natural position of staring at the ceiling.

He kept his hand on top of Daniels even when his mother walked through the door. He could sense that she was angry even though he didn’t look at her. His father stormed in a mere second later, opening the door with such force it hit the wall causing a loud bang. His eyes were layered in fury and he looked ready for a physical fight. Max was instantly reminded of his childhood and how Jos threw him across the floor in anger. The Dutchman curled up slightly which didn’t go unnoticed by the Australian.

‘If I say he’s racing. He’s racing.’ His father shouted at his mother.

‘I will not let him race until he is fit to do so.’ His mother argued back with equal amounts of force which surprised Max. He had never seen his mother this angry, ‘He needs love and support. Something you don’t understand.’

‘I understand what Max needs. I raised him-’

‘-And I should never have let you have him.’

‘Without me he’s nothing.’

‘He’s a far better driver than you ever were that’s for sure.’ Daniel piped up, arms crossed and glaring at Jos, ‘He’s done more in his 6 years then you did in your whole career.’

‘Because of my training.’ Jos snapped back instantly, ‘I trained him well. I gave him the tough love his deserved. I told him to stay away and not listen to people like you.’

‘People like me? What people who encourage him?’

'Encourage him? You ran away when he started outperforming you. You threw him aside like he was nothing which is exactly what you accuse me of doing.'

Daniel stood up with such force, the chair scrapped backwards against the floor. The Dutchman looked between the two of them. Max was scared. He noticed that it wasn’t for himself but his ex-teammate. He could just envision his father striking Daniel to the floor and hurting him just to prove a point. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t let someone else live through the pain of what he’d been through. He had to stop him. He had to stop his father before he hurt his friend.

‘Stop it!' Max said through his teeth. He averted his eyes from the ceiling towards his father who was standing next to Helmut, 'Dad! Leave him alone. I want him here and his opinion does matter. Daniel just don’t make it worse please.’

‘Max.’ His father replied in his stern voice, ‘Come on. This doesn’t involve him. He’s nobody to us.’

Normally, that tone would only occur when Jos didn’t want to be argued with and normally Max would back down instantly. Not anymore. He didn’t have anything to lose.

‘He’s my friend and he matters to me.’ Max replied with a similar tone of that to his fathers, ‘And I don’t want to go back to racing. I’m going to the help centre first then I’ll decide when I’m ready.’

'What if you don't have a seat when you decide to come back?' Helmut asked with his arms crossed looking angry at Max by the doorway. The Dutchman had forgotten he was even here.

‘Then I’ll announce what happened. I’ll tell the world what I did and why I did it and I’ll tell them that Helmut Marko made me choose between my mental health or my seat…’

‘Well see how popular you are then.’ Daniel interjected sitting back down and gripping Max’s hand tightly, ‘My guess is not very considering how important mental health. I don’t think the other drivers will respect you much either.’

'Please, dad.' Max said softly and tiredness laced his voice, 'Just go.'

Jos left the hospital room in a huff with Helmut following after. Daniel glanced down at Max amazed but was disappointed that the Dutchman had adverted his gaze back up towards the ceiling.

* * *

_June_

He’d been in the mental health facility for a couple of weeks, almost a month by now and Max was done with it. He had weekly visits from his mother and sister, who kept him updated with everything they could possibly think of. They didn’t mention his father aside from once and Max got the instant impression he wasn’t going to see him during his stay at the facility.

His weeks consisted of staying cooped up in a room, watching TV and of course counselling. His counsellor was very nice, and she let Max take his time. She didn’t force him into anything or try to sway his views. She let him speak if he wanted to. She let him sit in silence if he wanted to. She let him cry that one time although he tried to blank that session out. She had called it progress, he had called it being pathetic and weak

A few of the drivers popped back occasionally, just to see how he was getting on. Although he was still mentally fucked up as his mind put it, he was slightly more responsive to them. He would at least notice their present and acknowledgement then. Charles seemed better and a lot happier. He had spoken to a few psychiatrists over the last few weeks, but he claimed to be getting better despite still having the occasional nightmare about finding Max. The others asked him questions about how he was etc and when was he coming back, when can they go hiking again, that sort of stuff. He just shrugged in response.

His counsellor had asked about his not talking approach to life, but Max had just shrugged and said it's easier not interacting with them. He explained how it hoped it would cause them to leave him alone. He didn't want anyone breathing down his neck. The lack of talking also meant Max could focus on his head and all his thoughts. His dad's voice was still ever-present, but the Dutchman was working on trying to shut it up. He'd briefly mentioned it to his counsellor, and she had suggested meditation instead. He almost laughed at that. Almost.

He made it clear that he only spoke to her because she didn’t know him or could judge him. He wasn’t quite ready to admit that talking to someone made him feel better. It was somewhat liberating speaking to someone who didn’t know him. She didn’t give him any looks or pity. She didn’t tell him what a fuck up he was. She didn’t tell him how self-destructive he was. If anything, she was surprised he lasted this long with acting out.

‘I don’t know who to feel.’ He eventually admitted, ‘I’m not even sure if I actually wanted to die. It was an easy way out.’

‘Easy way out of what?’

‘My life at that time. I didn’t know how to control everything and escape everything so I just…’

‘Was there no one willing to help you?’

He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together, ‘I don’t know. Maybe? I didn’t want to be a burden to them. My dad said the only person who can help you is yourself.’

‘Do you listen to your dad often?’

‘He raised me.’

‘I’m just saying, if one of my family members or friends needed help, I wouldn't hesitate to help. They wouldn't be a burden to me.'

‘It just all feels really fake now you know, their concern. If they were that concerned why didn’t they pressure me to talk before I did it?’

‘I lost my dad a long time ago. I was only a teenager myself when he died but I can still remember everything about him. He used to wear this blue and white checked shirt and cotton trousers. It was his favourite outfit…He committed suicide. It was really out of the blue. We knew he wasn’t his normal self, but we thought it was a temporary thing. We thought he would snap out of it. Anyway, he took some pills and drank a load of alcohol. When they found him, they couldn’t save him. His body was beyond repair. I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through but I can understand what your family is.’

Max sat in silence unable to process this information. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was and how shit that must have been for her, but he couldn’t find the words. She must also have heard those words a million times throughout her life so what difference would it make if Max spoke them. What else do you say to someone who just told you that? Was that how his family and friends felt? That it was just phrase? Instead, he just glared down at the floor.

‘Is racing a trigger for you?’

The moment had gone. Max looked over her and shrugged in response. He had been racing his whole life. He didn’t know anything else except how to race and how to race well. He didn’t do normal. He didn’t do 9-5, 5 days a week.

‘I never had a problem driving the actual car.’

‘And everything else?

He thought for a moment. Of course, there were good times. He loved the banter between the drivers and the promotional videos. He did miss driving his car and the adrenaline after a race. Deep down, Max still loved racing and wanted to continue. Maybe it wasn't everything else either. Maybe it was just the competitive environment he hated.

Max looked over to the counsellor and shrugged. She suggested that maybe it would be worthwhile ‘hanging’ with some friends. It would be a small step towards normality. He doubted that all his friends would come over at once to visit him. They all wouldn’t have the time and the free schedule together.

* * *

His friends evidently all had a free weekend and decided to visit him. If truth be told, he was still in the mindset that he preferred if they didn’t and just live their own life instead but then again Max complained to his counsellor how his friends didn’t really care for him so what the fuck did he know? He had no clue what he actually he wanted.

They were sat in the socialising area as Max had dubbed it. The topic of F1 came about naturally and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as they spoke. All of them had complaints about their cars and frankly, Max wasn't surprised, though he did feel a little better when Pierre started listing the issues, he had with Max's car to Lando and Charles. At least he wasn't the only driver struggling with this model. Daniel and Carlos sat close to Max, reminiscing about their Red Bull days, probably with the aim to cheer Max up and make him happy again. He wasn't entirely sure if he would ever be happy again.

‘That was sooo cool? Do you remember that Max, the kayaking?’

Of course, he remembered the kayaking. It was one of the first videos he did with as a member of Torro Rosso with the Red Bull team. He could have told the other two what a great time he had and how nice it was, but he didn’t he just nodded his head as always and watched as his friends gave each other concerned looks as if he couldn’t see them.

They spent around half an hour talking to each other after reminiscing. Lando had been nosing around the cupboards and found a few boards game for the six of them to play. Unless it was charades, Max wasn’t interested.

It wasn’t.

It was bloody trivial pursuit and Max wanted to scream and throw the game out of the window. His friends couldn't force him to speak to them even for a board game. 

He knew he was glaring now. He knew what angry expression was plastered on his face, yet his friends ignored it. He watched as Pierre and Lando set up the game and quickly ran over to instructions to everybody. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? Maybe he could storm off? People were used to him storming off.

_Do something. Leave. They can’t force you to talk._

Someone somewhere had heard his pray as suddenly, the main consultant of the centre came into the socialising room and smiled at Max. The consultant loomed over Max and his friends as if he were a scary teacher amongst some little school kids. One by one each of his friends noticed the consultants presence and looked up at him either confused or concerned.

‘There you are Max, a few of the workers did say that a few of your friends were visiting. I’ve just had a brief chat with your counsellor. She was filling me in with the progress you’ve been making.’

‘Can Max come home soon then?’ Lando asked excitedly jumping straight to the main question at hand.

‘Not just yet. We want to try and get Max into some form of normality.’

Despite them speaking in lower tones than before, he could hear them as if they were merely a few cm’s away from him. He could see the nodding of heads as the consultant explained why they believed he should find some normality and what improvements they were looking for. He glanced over quickly and noticed the concerned and interested looks on his friends' faces. Whether they were real or not he didn’t know.

‘The occasional home visit might be good. Letting him have a day out or staying in his house for a night. We would need someone to look after him though. We asked his mother, but she was unsure whether the family home would be good for his mental state. Too many triggers…’

‘He can live with me.’

Max’s ears perked up at the fastnesses in Daniel’s reply. Why the fuck would Daniel want to live with him? Did none of them get the memo that he didn't deserve their friendship? The others were debating with him now, all offering to look after the Dutchman instead.

‘It’s fine. I don’t mind. I could live with him even…we live in the same apartment block. I can just move a few things down and Max can come with me to races…’

_Fuck_

He had forgotten about that. He had forgotten about his halted F1 career. The last time he went to a race…well…he ended up here. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t see everybody again. He couldn’t face the media and the pitiful looks.

Max Verstappen, the driver who fell.

The driver who never accomplished his potential.

He didn't register how he had fallen to the floor in a mound of heavy breathing and sobs. He felt some strong arms wrap around his shaking ones.

'I think it's best if Max goes back to his room for the time being.' He heard the consultant say over his sobs.

The Dutchman felt himself being pulled up onto his feet. He wasn’t sure who he was currently clutching onto for dear life, but they would doing a good of carrying his entire body weight. They opened his bedroom door and quickly laid him down carefully on the bed where he curled up into a little ball. He hid his face in his pillows and waited until the click of the door shutting reached his ears.

_Maybe that counsellor is onto something_

* * *

Of course, he had to have an emergency counselling session. Evidently, you can’t have a breakdown here without it being taken seriously.

_So much for all that progress then_

'Sometimes the key to defeating your fears is facing them head-on.'

Max rolled his eyes. He faced his father head-on every day for the last 23 years, he was still terrified of him. That didn't work.

‘No one is saying you have to go back alone. Maybe go with your friends.’

'It's not really a multiple friends thing. We all work with different teams. I don't want a custody battle over who has me in their drivers' room.'

‘Just go with one then. Your friend that is still here? Daniel isn’t it? He seems like he cares a lot.’

‘I mean… he cares about everyone…’

‘I don’t think most friends would visit here every single second of their spare time. He’s been here more than your mother has.’

‘I suppose I could go with Daniel. I do know him the best and I could chill in the hospitality area.’

‘It also might be a good time to open up to him.’

Max paused and bit his bottom lip showing that he was in deep thought. He quickly scanned through all the pros and cons of talking about his feelings and quickly decided against it.

‘I don’t think that’ll do me much good. I do try and talk but nothing comes out.’

‘Talk to him again. You don’t have to tell him everything. He just wants to be there for you.’

Max nodded but the advice fell on empty ears. He wouldn’t be talking to Daniel anytime soon. It was too much for him. Everyone kept saying how he was in control and everything was catered to his own speed. It didn’t feel like it most of the time so he tried to control every little thing he could including his speech.

He was allowed back to his room afterwards and wasn’t particularly surprised to find Daniel there waiting with the TV on. The Australian gave a small smile and looked as if he was about to ask Max if he was ok, but he knew better than that. The Dutchman had just had a breakdown, he clearly wasn’t ok.

Max sat on his bed, back resting against the headboard and looked towards the TV. He had no clue what was on and frankly didn’t care. He would soon find himself back in his own head with his own thoughts shouting at him. His father’s voice was dying down slowly but it was still there hiding at the back and shouting when he least expected it.

The TV was still blaring in the background an hour or so later, but Max was doing a really good job at ignoring it and Daniel. He still wasn’t entirely sure why the Australian kept coming to visit him. The Dutchman didn’t have much hope in his mental state improving so why should he? Maybe Daniel was trying to prove a point? That he wasn’t alone? He would prefer being alone as the McLaren drivers hurt face kept breaking Max’s heart.

The News came on the TV and Max internally groaned. He was fed up with the world. He, again, managed to ignore most of what was happening in the world until one specific news story made him blink. He wasn’t sure what it was about it that made Max want to listen. It wasn’t exactly breaking news or anything. It was just a simple happy new story.

'Marianne Steel, a British girl who was stabbed in Barcelona many months ago and woken from her coma. She was reunited with her family and friends, who have been distraught over what happened. It is expected that Marianne will be returning back to Britain when she is more stable.'

Max tried to ignore the random feeling of happiness that occurred in his stomach or how his heartfelt lighter at the news. This girl meant nothing to him. He didn't know her. Who was she to make him feel somewhat happy and hopeful in the situation he was in? He really was an emotional mess today. He changed the channel not even glancing to see if Daniel was watching it.

It turned out that not only was it his emotions but his mental state. His head was a mess again and when he kept thinking about the girl, visons of a loud laugh and annoying personality came to the forefront of his mind.

Her family and friends never gave up on her. The reporter said that she was getting better and would make a full recovery. Still, it meant nothing to Max.

But…

His family and friends didn’t give up on him either and still haven’t. Max wanted to hate them for it but couldn’t find the strength to.

He glanced over at Daniel, he seemed to also be in a mind of his own. He gently nudged the Australians hand, which was resting on the bed (the other one was being used as a chin rest). The McLaren driver looked down confused then over to Max. Both of their eyes met, and Max couldn't help but notice how wide his friends' smile had got.

‘Hey.’ He muttered quietly.

‘Hey. You ok? Do you need something? A counsellor?’ Daniel asked with a worried look now replaced the big grin.

‘I want to go to the race with you this weekend.’ Max stated.

Daniel’s eyes widened in shock but the Australian simply nodded, ‘I’ll call Christian or Zac or whoever, get you a pass.’

Max nodded and gave a small smile before turning his attention back to the TV.

* * *

Arriving at Monza was starting to cause a wave of nausea to occur in his lower stomach. He thought back to his DNF last year and shuddered. He had to remember that it wasn’t his fault and that the car was shit. He could hear the fans in the background and he suddenly felt like a million eyes were on him. It was impossible though as no one knew he was here except Zac, who Daniel begged for a paddock pass after explaining that Max had no interest in visiting the Red Bull Garage today.

Max kept close to Daniel the best he could, but he was soon called away for press duties leaving Max to idly walk around the paddock doing his best to keep out of sight. He actively hid behind things when people were walking towards him. His instinct to not wear one of his icon cap meant that people did not recognise him instantly. Also, he was not dressed head to toe in Red Bull gear, instead a pair of shorts and a white hoodie, which Daniel was against considering the weather, but Max was adamant he needed to wear it- he didn’t want people seeing his scars.

He was doing a good job at avoiding people and even managed to find himself a drink without being noticed. The Dutchman overheard that all the drivers were back in their garages and Max tried to ignore the feeling that Daniel forgot about him. Logically, he knew how rushed everything was and if Daniel had no idea where Max was, he wouldn’t be able to waste time trying to locate him.

The Red Bull driver was so focused on trying to calm his mind, he didn’t notice the huddle of reporters up ahead. Once one camera spotted him, they all did. Suddenly there was a flurry of motion as all the media ran up to him, throwing mics in front of his face, asking him a million questions at once. Max gulped frightened. Daniel was in his garage going over his car. He attempted to open his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, his breathing picked up and everything started getting louder and louder. He was drowning on dry land. He was sure he was about to collapse to the ground in a panicked heap.

He felt a hand grab his arm, steadying him and somewhat grounding him slightly. The person stood in front of him, protecting him against the media and swearing heavily at them. They shouted angrily that the Red Bull driver would not be answering any questions and that he would call security over if they came near him again. Max could barely focus so was unable to name the driver until the media ran away ashamed over how they had ambushed the Dutchman.

‘It’s fucking bullshit mate honestly. Let’s get you back to the garages.’

Of course, the torpedo himself would be the one to torpedo in and save him from the media.

‘Is you’re breathing ok?’ He asked and Max just about managed to nod.

Daniil’s hand was still around his arm, dragging him slightly towards the pitlane where everyone was preparing for the race. Of course, there were a few rogue cameras around but one glare from the Russian sent them running away to annoy someone else. Max had composed himself quite well by now so that he looked like his normal self from a distance. He was sure the look of panic was still lurking in his eyes.

He was glad that the Alpha Tauri driver had more sense than to drag in back to Red Bull. He wasn’t terrified of them as such as he still had a contract with them for next year. He just didn’t fancy the chance of bumping into Helmut although saying hi to Alex and Pierre would have been nice. Instead, Daniil dragged him to outside McLaren, where he could see many of the engineers’ eye him cautiously.

_Still a threat I see_

It must have been by luck that Lando came out of his garage laughing at his phone as when the young Brit did, Daniil pulled Max over to his side of the garages and stopped in front of the McLaren driver. Lando looked up and gasped happily when he saw Max and pulled him in for a tight hug.

‘I didn’t know you were here today!’ He exclaimed happily and Max cautiously returned the hug, still hiding his scars with the large hoodie as he did so, ‘Daniel never said anything!’

'He had a run-in with the media. I think he's a bit shaken.' Daniil explained before Max was forced to say anything to Lando, which he was happy about. He was happy that the Russian was very understanding of the situation.

Lando let go of Max and studied him for a few seconds, ‘Thanks Daniil, I’ll let Dan know he’s here and what’s happened.’

The Dutchman wanted to exclaim how he could look after himself and that people didn’t need to talk as if he weren’t there.

‘Whatever Max needs. See you around.’

With that Daniil gave a small wave to him and walked back up the pitlane to his garage. Lando pulled him in for another hug then grabbed his hand carefully and dragged him inside towards the driver’s rooms. The Brit knocked loudly on the driver door and he heard Daniel sigh.

'What is it, Lando. I don't have time for more memes.' He stated as he opened his door. He glanced over to Lando then adverted his gaze to Max, who he looked surprised about being here. The Australian must have seen the fear in his eyes as he instantly asked, 'What happened?'

‘Daniil brought him here. Said the media bombarded him.’

‘Fuck sake.’ Daniel muttered under his breath and pulled his door open wider inviting Max in.

The Dutchman took an awkward step in and sat down on the sofa unsure of how to act. He wasn’t unfamiliar with being in someone else’s driver room, far from it. So why was he so uncomfortable? He and Daniel used to hang in each other all the time when the latter had been a Red Bull. After the Australian left, he would go into Pierre's then Alex's. No. It was the situation that made him unsure of himself. He hadn't been a visitor to a racetrack for a long time and because of his association with Red Bull, all the other garages watched him cautiously as if he were a spy. 

He zoned back into reality and could hear Lando and Daniel speak quietly. He just about made out the former say, ‘He hasn’t said a word.’

He could hear Daniel assure him that was normal, and Max didn’t do speaking anymore. No one was sure why. He couldn’t be bothered to explain it to them. However, here the reasoning was different Here, everything scared him. How didn’t want to explain how he was terrified that if he said one thing it would-be all-over twitter, all over youtube etc. 

He was terrified of being himself.

Daniel came over to him, his conversation with Lando evidently over and smiled at him.

'You can watch the race here if you like?'

Max just shrugged.

'I'm sorry I didn't go back to you. They literally pushed me back into the garages.'

Max shrugged again.

‘I really am sorry.’

Max sighed loudly and glared over at Daniel, who got the message to shut and just get on with getting ready. He shuffled around the sofa seat and got comfy; he didn’t want to leave the drivers room after his small run in. He would happily watch the race in here.

The race itself had been pretty boring in his personal view. Nothing compared to last year and he felt sorry for Pierre, who kept getting asked if his p6 was disappointing compared to his win last year. Max could tell that the Frenchman was majorly upset especially when questions like ‘can you cope in the Red Bull car?’ kept popping up. He watched as the new Red Bull driver for this season kept stuttering over his words, finding it hard to answer questions. No one was interjecting to help him; everyone was busy with answering their own questions. Max could just see the tweets and news updates about Pierre Gasly’s awful P6.

He couldn’t let them win.

He couldn’t let the media destroy another driver.

He looked at the TV one last time and left the drivers room making his way over to the media pen. The Red Bull driver wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing this and his run in from earlier had still shaken him slightly. The need that protect another racer from getting scrutinised heavily from the reporters outweighed any fear in Max’s body.

He ducked under the tap and strolled through, ignoring all the glances and stares of confusion as he did so. He made his way over to Pierre, who was struggling to answer why he couldn’t do better than P6 and hugged him.

‘Well done mate. You did better in my car here than I did last year.’

Pierre hugged him back cautiously, aware that all eyes were on them now. The two stayed like that for a few seconds, the noise of the pen dying down. Max patted him on the back then pulled away from the hug. He tried to summon a sarcastic smile towards the cameras removed himself from the pen, feeling slightly lighter than he did earlier.

He returned to Daniel’s driver room and continued watching some of the interviews. He could tell the reporters were still a bit bewildered after Max's impromptu visit and seemed to have dismissed asking any more awkward questions about competency while driving. He was halfway through Bottas’s interview when he heard the door slam shut.

‘What was that?’ Daniel asked. Max was unsure if he was confused or annoyed. One thing was for certain, shrugging in response would make it worse.

‘They were harassing him about his p6. I just subtly told them to stop.’ He replied still looking at the TV.

Max speaking didn’t seem to shock him as much as the Dutchman hoped.

‘Subtle? Max, only three drivers knew you were here today- two of them by pure incident! I’m pretty sure you just gave half of them a heart attack after turning up out of the blue. I thought the whole idea was that you didn’t want to be seen?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Then what the fuck was that about then. You could have consoled Pierre afterwards.’

Daniel was annoyed now, and Max was still unsure as to why. No one knew that the Australian was the one responsible for bringing him in. He wouldn’t get the fallout from it.

‘You don’t understand…’

'You're right I don't because you don't talk to me, Max. You don't talk to anyone except your counsellor. I don't know what you're thinking half of the time…’

‘Maybe I want it that way? Have you thought of that? Maybe _I_ want it that way?’

Max stormed off out of the McLaren garage. He had no idea where he was going, he might run into the Red Bull one just to piss off Zac because he could. He wouldn’t though. There was only a handful of garages that tolerated him and were polite to him as it was.

He decided to go back to the hotel. Before everything, Max would have wandered into the city and found the most expensive bar to get drunk at. Despite his bad mood, he didn't want to cause Daniel anymore panic or annoyance so just retreated back to his room like a scolded little boy.

He was tempted to go into the mini-fridge and drink himself into oblivion, but he didn't fancy the hangover and he hadn't drunk anything alcoholic in months. It would throw mind right off. He decided to lie on his bed and just close his eyes. It was meditation because that was stupid and didn't work in Max's view, it was… clearing his head.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there for. He wasn't entirely sure whether he had been daydreaming or sleeping but a gentle knock returned Max back to the reality of his hotel bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled tiredly over to the door. He opened it and wasn't surprised to see Daniel there looking guilty and upset. That seemed to be the Australians default face around him now. Max opened the door wider allowing Daniel in.

'I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to have a go at you.' The McLaren driver said while sitting on the edge of the bed, ‘It’s just hard because I don’t know where you’re at.’

Until this morning Max wasn’t sure either but this time alone, in a different environment, confronting the media, Max knew where he wanted to be.

‘Where I’m at is a position where I want to go home.’ Max replied looking up at Daniel and meeting his eye for the first time this weekend.

‘Yeah…sure…I can try and get us an earlier flight…’

‘No. Not that home...actual home. I want to go home to Monaco.’ Max interrupted.

‘Max…’

‘I’m ready. Even my counsellor says I am. She has this massive file on how I’ve improved…’

‘It’s not my decision…’

'No, but my mum listens to you…'

‘I don’t know…’

‘You can’t keep me there forever.’

'I didn't want you to have to go in the first place. I didn't want any of this for you.'

Max sealed his mouth shut, his retort dying in his throat. It was hard remembering that people cared about him and they wanted to be involved in his life. He had isolated himself for such a long time that people caring had become strange to him. He had to remember that it was his head telling him they didn’t care.

‘I just want to go home…please.’

Daniel bit his lip and looked helplessly at Max. The Australian nodded and blinked his eyes multiple times in surprise as the Dutchman jumped up and hugged him.

‘Small steps.’ Daniel thought.

* * *

He gave a small smile as he watched his mum sign the discharge papers. Finally, he was getting out of here and back to his apartment. Daniel had somehow persuaded Max’s mum that he was well enough to go home now. He had the many and exhausting meetings with the counsellors and the consultants with his mum present explaining his progress and Max had made no indication that he would severely harm himself again.

It had been four weeks since Monza and during that time, Max had to prove that he didn’t need the mental health centres support 24/7. He had made a few daily and nightly trips home back to his flat par the consultants request with Daniel as emotional support or something. Max wasn’t entirely sure why he was there. He had some days out with Charles or Pierre or Lando or all of his friends. Although Max still wasn’t comfortable speaking to them as he normally would, he managed a few sentences and conversations making the others happy that he was somewhat speaking to them again.

He, his mum and Daniel, again Max was unsure why he was here, were in a meeting with his counsellor running through the necessary paperwork. Max felt slightly giddy when he could see that she had turned to the last page. She looked up at the three of them as she did so.

'I would advise someone to stay with him for a while. Just to keep an eye on him.' His counsellor informed, acting like Max wasn’t even in the room.

As soon as the sentence left her mouth, a voice quickly spoke up volunteering themselves.

‘I can do it.’

Max looked over at the Australian surprised. Why would he do that? Why would he volunteer himself? He’s seen the mood swings, the self-loathing. He knows how bad it can get. Why would he continue to put himself through that?

‘Daniel, you don’t have to.’ His mother replied but was quickly interrupted.

‘No, it’s fine. I want to. Max is used to me being there anyway with the occasional visits he made home.’

No one said anything to try and persuade him otherwise. Max was still in shock and his mother did look apprehensive about it but considering the Dutchman didn’t want to go back to Belgium because, too many triggers, she had no choice.

'That sounds perfect. You feel comfortable with Daniel around don't you? I remember you saying.'

Max glared at his counsellor.

_So much for confidential._

She wasn’t entirely wrong though. He and Daniel were rather comfortable with each other and had spent a lot of time with one another. They did live in the same apartment block so it did make sense. He really didn't want to be alone. As much as it helped sorting out his head and ‘meditating’, he didn’t want to be stuck in his head 24/7 and he was just getting used to talking to his friends again.

* * *

_July_

Max felt it was wasted worry about being stuck in his head 24/7. Daniel barely left him alone. It was only at times when he went to the shops or met up with his own friends, times like that. Max was completely fine with it. It actually gave him time to breathe and recollect. Any negative thoughts, he just wrote down and spun them, so they were positive as per his counsellor’s instructions. The Red Bull driver was adamant that the Australian live his own life and not become Max’s babysitter 24/7. He wanted to write in his personal diary privately. He could tell that the McLaren driver was reluctant to leave him on his own though. A pattern soon emerged to deal with the Australians worry.

When Daniel left, someone else arrived. It took Max a few weeks to notice. At first, it was either Charles or Pierre at the door insisting that Max watch this new movie or TV show. A week or so later, Lando turned up when Daniel went down to the beach for the day with his own friends. Naturally, Carlos was in tow saying that the three of them desperately needed a catch-up, though Max was unsure what he could add to the conversation, he still welcomed them in. He just ended up third-wheeling the ex-teammates who debated and fought over everything.

One of Daniel’s friends had decided to throw a party last minute and invited the McLaren driver. Max forced the reluctant driver to go, claiming it would be nice to be alone at last. The Australian didn’t look convinced but left to go regardless. The Dutchman was a little apprehensive about being alone physically and with his thoughts, but he had to face it soon or later. He needed to get back to normality.

He was shocked when Alex turned up unexpectedly with George, which surprised Max as he and the Williams driver didn't speak that much. All the drivers had the weekend off and Max presumed that his current? former? teammate was back in England as per. Instead, the three of them just sat and watched some action movie together. It was nice and none of them really spoke except to comment on parts of the movie and George had kindly brought round popcorn. Alex didn't mention Red Bull once, which Max was thankful for. He couldn't help but wonder where all of his friends were coming from and how they knew he would be alone.

The answer soon came when one weekend Daniel had to fly out to Perth for a family occasion. Max had been fine with it and frankly was looking forward to some time on his own. Everyone’s constant presence had started to bug him. His counsellor had told him the most important thing was collecting your thoughts and providing evidence behind it occurring. How was Max meant to do that when everyone wouldn’t stop hanging or talking with him?

The Australian had been gone for an hour and Max was currently writing in his feelings journal or whatever cringey name his counsellor gave it when there was a knock at the door. The Dutchman slammed the notebook down harder than he intended and made his way over to the door. He was expecting Charles to be on the other side giving his residency in Monaco and possibly Pierre as the two were currently inseparable. Instead, he was shocked to see 7th-time winner Lewis Hamilton standing awkwardly at his door.

It wasn’t that Max didn’t like Lewis. They respected one another on and off the track but Max would hardly call them friends. So why was he standing on his doorstep looking like he wished the ground would swallow him up? The world champion was always training, always trying to decrease time on his laps. It was very rare to see Lewis away from anything to do with F1. Lewis Hamilton doesn’t just drop by unannounced on your doorstep.

‘Did Daniel text you or something?’ Max asked bluntly, ‘Because I don’t need a babysitter.’

‘He’s just worried.’ The Brit replied, ‘You really scared everyone when you… I don’t think he knows what to do…how to help.’

Max opened the door a little wider indicating that Lewis was welcomed in despite neither one of them actually wanting him there. They stood awkwardly in the landing until Max gave in and spoke first.

‘He can’t keep watching me forever.’ He muttered arms crossed and looking down at the floor, ‘He’s going to have to trust me at some point.’

‘He does trust you. He knows that you’re better than what you were. He’s just scared that he’ll miss something like before and you’ll slip…’

‘The only reason you missed something before was because I pushed myself away. I can hardly do that, now can I?’ The Dutchman argued back.

‘You’re good at hiding stuff.’

Max shrugged at the comment and walking into his living room. He didn’t check if Lewis was following or not. He didn’t care either way. He sat down on the sofa, moving his journal from the coffee table onto his lap and watched as Lewis sat next to him, a metre apart. The TV was on, but Max had no idea what it was playing, he’d lost interest in TV shows earlier this year. Didn’t see the point in watching them if he didn’t know how they were going to end.

‘Is that your diary or something?’ Lewis asked nodding his head towards the book in Max’s lap.

‘Or something.’ Max replied grabbing hold of it tight.

Lewis looked at him confused. Max just rolled his eyes and decided to bit the bullet.

'It's my emotions diary.' Max explained, 'I'm meant to write how I feel every day in it. See if there's a pattern or something to how I'm feeling.'

Lewis nodded letting Max continue.

‘I’m really bad at it. I don’t find much time to fill it in. I should do but I don’t have time to think about how I’m truly feeling. I’m never around on my own for me to realise.’

The world champion nodded again and Max couldn’t help but notice how the Mercedes driver’s gaze drifted down to his scarred wrists. It was still very visible but not as angry as it had been a month earlier. The Red Bull driver pulled at his hoodie sleeves, which he was still adamant he wore despite the heat and covered them up. The Brit didn’t question him about it.

‘Are there any good movies on tonight then?’ He asked looking towards the TV instead.

Max shrugged as he picked up the remote and threw it over to Lewis, ‘You can choose.’

Another thing the Dutchman couldn’t help but notice throughout the evening was that Lewis would watch him every time he moved to do something whether it was reposition himself on the sofa, reach for his phone or even take a sip of water. He’d notice that Daniel, Lando, Carlos, Charles and Pierre had been doing it as well but considering they were his closest friends, he didn’t take much notice of them doing it.

He excused himself halfway through the TV show, grabbing his phone as he did so and quickly dialled the number he quickly learnt to memorise. If he couldn’t figure out why he was so annoyed with the constant company then maybe his counsellor could. She should be available at this time. She was the one who insisted they keep in contact after all.

* * *

‘I thought that I once I was out of here, I would want their friendship you know? After months of pushing them away, I would want them back, but I want nothing more than for them all to leave me alone. It’s just too much.’ Max explained fiddling with his t-shirt, ‘I don’t know…I probably sound really stupid.’

‘It’s normal to want your own space and time to yourself. It’s important for you to regather yourself after such a traumatic event. Have you tried asking them to leave and explaining why?’

Max shook his head in response even though his counsellor couldn’t’ see him. He was lucky to get a word in edgeways when the other drivers were around. Lewis was the only one who actually spoke to him as it were. Daniel wasn’t so bad but he was already doing _so_ much for Max that he felt guilty asking the Australian to leave him alone and not text the others to keep him company.

‘Next time, they come round; try and explain it to them.’ His counsellor suggested but Max internally scoffed.

_Yeah right_

As the Dutchman predicted, it wasn’t long before his friends had trampled into his personal space again. This time, all 5 of them were here (including Daniel obviously). Lando explained to him that they all needed cheering up (he checked the F1 scores, none of them had done badly. They all fell in the top 10) and something to be happy about, so they were throwing a little impromptu party. Max wasn’t sure who for, but it had an inkling it was for him. It was a stupid idea. What does he have to be happy about?

They all arrived around midday, invading his apartment with their cheer and happiness. Max was looking forward to a day catching up on his TV shows but instead, here he was a mere two hours later sat on his sofa, empty plates of food and empty drink bottles surrounding him. Carlos and Charles had set up his PS4 and were currently crashing their respective digitalised F1 cars around the animated track. Daniel and Pierre were laughing about something, a conversation Max had zoned out of minutes ago and were currently on their phones as if to highlight the hilarity of the conversation.

Lando carefully carried out the cake he’d brought on a ‘whim’ earlier, along with a suitable knife. He started heading towards the coffee table that Max was sat in front but haltered and changed direction, instead he headed for the side cabinet. Normally, Max wouldn't care about something as small as that, but the coffee table was a much more sensible place to cut and serve the cake. It didn't take a genius to know why Lando had haltered. It then suddenly clicked in Max’s head. He thought that they didn’t trust him home alone, but it was more than that. The Dutchman quickly scanned through all the food he had eaten in the past weeks that Daniel or Charles had made for him; Chinese take away, Burgers, sandwiches, spaghetti. None of it required a knife. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen a knife in front of him since he was released from the centre.

He tried to ignore Lando and Carlos, who had given up on the PS4, arguing over what to move over on the cabinet so they could make room for the cake. He heard Pierre sigh at them from across the room and walk over there to help them. Soon, he heard the clatter of photos and trophies being moved around, causing various crashes and bangs.

‘For fuck sake Lando.’ Max shouted over to the group of drivers, ‘Just cut the cake here, I’m not going to wrestle you for the knife so I can slit my wrists again.’

Everyone froze not knowing where to look. Max couldn't miss how ashamed and awkward everyone looked. Clearly, they didn't realise how transparent they all were. The Red Bull driver wanted for the bombardment of excuses saying that 'he was all in his head' and 'he was being silly'- something his father would tell him constantly. Instead, a heavy silence filled the air, and everyone looked too afraid to speak. If anything, it agitated Max further. His friends didn't even have the decency to share their feelings with him after trying to force him to.

‘You know what fuck this.’

Max stormed out of his living room, through his bedroom slamming the door as he went. He banged open his en-suite door and locked it once he entered, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best thing for someone who had just tried to commit suicide two months earlier to do. He’d probably panicked his friends even more now.

He slid down the wall and held his head in his hands, trying to breathe deeply. What the fuck had his life become? No one trusted him with a knife anymore. He didn’t even use a knife when he did it. Any sharp object would do. Why were his friends being so paranoid over it? Max knew the answer deep down. He knew that they were just scared.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been sat in his bathroom for. He kept playing with his hoodie, tightening the hood then loosening it up again. He did feel bad for shouting at Lando and storming off, but he didn’t need babying. He didn’t need someone watching his every step. He didn’t someone wrapping him up in cotton wool. They did that for him at Red Bull during his first two years and look at all the hate he got for that.

A knock at the door brought Max back to reality. He lifted his head up and looked at it, not sure what he was expecting considering it was locked and no one could walk through it.

‘Max.’ It was Daniel, which made him feel a bit calmer in the situation. He was used to Daniel being there 24/7 with him, ‘Everyone’s gone home just so you know…Ummm…I’m sorry about the cake and the knives…we just… I don’t know…we don’t know what to do…I don’t know what to do…’

He didn’t hear any movement, so he presumed that Daniel was still on the other end of the locked door. Max kept staring at it, expecting Daniel to waltz on through and sit next to him. When they had been teammates at Red Bull not once did they lock their doors. Any doors for that matter. Their drivers' room was always open to each other in case for a chat or a hug or just to chill out. They left their hotel room doors on the latch making it easier for them to move between rooms during movie nights and general messing around. They had keys to each other’s flats here allowing easy access for one of them to check on the other or to steal some milk. There had never been a locked door once between Max and Daniel's relationship. Daniel always had access to Max's head, his heart, his home, his feelings. Now, look at them, Max on one side of the locked door, Daniel on the other side waiting to get in. At what point during the year did Max actually close the door to Daniel. At what point did Daniel stop trying and just accept that access would be closed for a while.

_This is stupid_

Remembering that his counsellor always hyped up that talking to people was the key to overcoming everything, Max stood up from the bathroom floor and slowly walked over to the door, he gently put his hand on the lock. He took a deep breath and twisted it. He pushed the door open slowly.

Daniel was sat in front of Max’s bed, facing the bathroom door. The Australian lifted his head up and the pair made eye contact. The Red Bull driver stared at his friend for a few seconds before cautiously making his way over to him and sitting down next to him. He leant in towards his ex-teammates chest and Daniel moved on of his arms so he could wrap it around Max. The pair sat in silence for a few more minutes collecting their thoughts and trying to rebuild the closeness of their relationship.

'I'm sorry about losing it earlier.' Max said breaking the silence.

‘I’m sorry about the knives and how I’ve been treating you.’

‘You’re just scared. You all are.’

Max felt Daniel place his cheek on the top of his head. The McLaren drivers’ arms tightened around him. Suddenly Max's head lifted up and he scrambled up off the floor. The Australian was terrified that he had stepped too far and the Dutchman was running away again. He was relieved, however, when Max returned with a book in his hands and resumed his position huddled next to Daniel.

‘I write my feelings in this book.’ He started and paused unsure of how to go on. Daniel remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt Max, ‘I umm…I started feeling it in more last month and seeing if there’s any links to any triggers…anything that makes my mind go dark or if there’s anything that stops the darkness from clouding over. Here, you can read it if you want.’

‘I don’t…It’s your personal diary.’

Max had never heard Daniel said so unsure in a short amount of time as he did today.

'Read it. You need to trust me again and clearly; you're not going to do that without some form of proof. It's all colour coordinated.'

Daniel remained silent as he opened the first page and started reading. He noted how most of the triggers, highlighted in red, composed of mentions of his father, the F1 Media and people claiming that Max had done it for a publicity stunt. The yellow pen consisted of such as Max’s self-doubt over his ability to cope, how he was treating his friends and the lack of trust between them all and him. Daniel bit his lip ashamed that Max had seen straight through him. He read the bits highlighted in green that indicated that spending time with his mother and sister was a big help, doing stupid ordinary stuff like shopping made him feel more normal and how having his friends around him shoved any doubt that he was unloved aside.

Daniel placed the book down carefully next to him and hugged Max so tight the latter thought his sides would pop out. He tried not to laugh at the irony that a hug would kill him, but a suicide attempt didn’t.

‘I don’t… I don’t know…it’s not that I... that we…it’s not that we don’t trust you. It’s just that…my heart broke when we were told what happened. I couldn’t…I just… I thought I knew you like I knew myself.’

‘You did.’ Max replied. His head was against the Australians chest and he could faintly hear his heart beating through the t-shirt material. Daniel’s arm was completely wrapped around his body as of to hide him from an intruder, ‘It was me. I lost myself. I didn’t know who I was. And deep down I think you still know me pretty well.’

Daniel gave a deep sigh and leant his chin on Max’s head, ‘I know you’re not going to kill yourself again. I know that. I just. I don’t want everything to go back to how it was before then bam, find you in the bathroom again next year.’

‘I don’t think it’s going to go back to how it was. Everything’s changed and it’ll stay that way.’

‘I’m talking a little bit more personal than the F1 Media rules now Max. I’m talking about you…about us.’

‘Oh…I believe that we’ll go back to normal… well not normal…but we’ll be fine…we’ll be happy again. I just need my own time alone something to think. Is that ok? I’m not saying you have to leave or the others can’t come over but I don’t want to be babysat all the time.’

Daniel nodded content for now but still held hold of Max. The pair sat on the floor until the Dutchman complained of his legs going numb. He pulled Daniel up with him and dragged him back to the living room where Max was adamant, he would catch up on his TV shows, even if the Australian didn’t want to. The Red Bull driver did give him a choice, but he was pulled back into a tight hug the minute Daniel sat down. Neither one of them wanted to part after there heart to heart.

* * *

He woke up rested for a change and… it felt good. It felt nice. It felt familiar. The sun peeking through his windows brought a smile to his face. It was if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. In a way, he supposed that was the case. He had opened up to Daniel and he felt that they were now stronger than ever. His happy morning was interrupted by various laughs coming from the kitchen. Max frowned at the door and swung his duvet off his body. None of the laughs sounded like Daniel and both of them were very cautious on safety; they always locked the doors etc. Max found his discarded hoodie and quickly shoved it on.

He opened his bedroom door to locate the sound of the noise that had disturbed him. It had barely gone nine and Max was more than ready to start shouting at the idiot/idiots who thought that this was an acceptable time to enter his apartment. He prayed that it wasn't a robber or some sort. Although he was keeping up with his fitness, he had doubts that he could fight someone right now, especially in PJ shorts and a hoodie. Slowly, he opened the kitchen door to find…Charles and Pierre moving around the kitchen.

_Fucking hell. Might as well get them a key at this rate_

He was about to open his mouth when someone gently moved him aside. He felt someone squeeze past and when they came into view, he realised it was Carlos, who was also under the impression he lived here. He crossed his arms somewhat amused but also pissed as they opened his kitchen doors looking for stuff, ignoring him as they did so.

‘Morning Max.’ A cheery voice from behind him called.

He turned and saw Lando entering his apartment, again under the impression that he too lived here. Max didn’t even greet him hello or wave as he strolled past him as well and into the kitchen. He heard a door open from behind him and Daniel appeared sheepishly in his bedroom doorway.

‘I didn’t think they would be here this early sorry.’

Max looked blankly at the Australian and hoped that the latter would elaborate why anyone was here in this kitchen after yesterdays break down.

‘I spoke to them last night when you fell asleep. I didn’t mention your diary, but I told them about the knives and the caution that we’ve all had around you. We’re going to try and stop that and treat you like a normal person.’ Daniel muttered to him at the kitchen door.

Max nodded and looked back at the seemingly organised chaos. Carlos was trying to cook something on the stove while Lando was emptying food out of a carrier bag, his body was blocking Max’s view of the items so he couldn’t try and figure out what they were making. Charles was gathering plates and cups out of the draws, bashing them closed as he did leaving Pierre to set the table. The Dutchman watched him as he placed both a knife and a fork at each seat on the table. The Frenchman must have sensed he was being watched as he slowly looked up at Max and smiled sheepishly. Max returned the smile pleased that they were allowing him to use knives again.

_Small steps_

The other four drivers grabbed various items off the kitchen counter and placed them delicately in the middle of the table. Max's stomach quietly rumbled as he saw all the food that had been prepared. A huge stack of waffles lay dead centre in the middle of the table, to the right were a bowl of strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. On the left, there was whipped cream, maple syrup and bacon. Everyone went to their seats and Max laughed as Daniel's pulled his out like a waiter would for a paying guest. He looked over at all the food, the setup and the knives.

_If they can trust me, I can trust them._

Max smiled at Daniel and quickly ran back to his bedroom. He paused and took a deep breath as he slowly took his hoodie off and threw it into the washing pile. He quickly scrambled in his doors and put on the first decent t-shirt he could find. The Red Bull driver caught a quick glance of himself in the mirror. His scars were still present and more obviously on show, but Max decided to brave it. Trust was a two-way street.

He paced back to the kitchen and saw that Daniel had not moved from behind the chair meant for Max. The Australians smile returned to his face when he noticed that the Dutchman had returned and was wearing a t-shirt. He placed his arm out towards the chair suggesting that Max should sit, and the latter complied happily and quietly laughed as McLaren driver insisted on tucking him in before sitting in his own next adjacent to Max.

The unexpected breakfast was rather enjoyable in Max’s opinion. He didn’t resent everyone coming over and ruining his peace and no one mentioned his scars. He enjoyed actually being able to speak to people normally without them throwing nervous glances or watching his every move. Lando kept bugging him about playing the newest version of COD and Max eventually agreed to a few games. He asked Carlos how Ferarri was under the new management as Max had only been present for five races or so could not get a real feel for how the team were coping. Pierre and Charles were in a world of their own so Max bypassed them on a conversation for the time being. 

Max kept bumping his leg with Daniel accidentally causing the pair to erupt into seemingly random laughter. He'd noticed that the McLaren driver had been watching him throughout the meal occasionally but not the same way he had previously. There was something different about the way he was looking at Max. He decided to ignore it for now and focus on having a proper catch up with his friends.

He couldn’t help but keep looking over at Pierre and Charles, narrowing his eyes as he did so. There was something odd about them. It was if he knew something about them but couldn’t remember what. He stared as the Monegasque swiped a strawberry from the Frenchman's plate and ate it before the other man could contest and complain. Pierre laughed at him, shoved him lightly before taking a chunk of his waffle with his fork causing Charles to look annoyed but yet happy. Something was glowing in the Ferrari drivers’ eyes.

Max’s own eyes widened, and then it clicked.

‘Are you two a couple?’ He asked causing the whole table to go silent and look at the pair.

_Shit. Didn’t mean for it to come out like that_

'Umm.' Charles said but then started to stumble as he tried to finish his sentence.

‘Yes…’ Pierre replied looking very unsure of himself.

Everyone was still in silence still trying to process what had just been confirmed. Max had to admit, it wasn’t exactly a surprise them _being_ a couple, that was inevitable. It was more of them hiding it that was the shock. How did they hide it? Cameras follow them everywhere. Fans pick up on the tiniest little things.

‘Were you going to tell me about?’

Surprisingly, it was Lando who asked the question and surprisingly it wasn’t aimed at either Charles or Pierre but indeed Carlos, who looked just as shocked at having the question aimed towards him.

‘Me?’

‘You’re his teammate?’

‘So…I don’t know everything about his life? Do you know everything about Daniels? No.’

‘I could do!’

You don’t.’ The Australian replied abruptly.

‘What do you know? I could have been stalking you for the past year.’

‘Daniil knew.’ Pierre said smiling sheepishly over at the Ferrari and McLaren drivers, who looked back at the Alpha Tauri driver annoyed.

‘See. You’re a bad teammate.’ Lando stated poking Carlos in the chest causing a small fight to erupt between them and Daniel, who was trying to calm the situation down.

‘Daniil knew?’ Charles repeated shocked, ‘Since when?’

‘Last month. He heard us in the driver’s room you know…doing that…’

Max smiled to himself and took a small bite at his waffle watching as everyone at the table kept arguing with one another. Shaking his head at the stupidity of his friends, he picked up a rogue strawberry on his plate and kept smiling. He still had it. He still processed the chaotic vibes. He had missed this.

* * *

_August_

Daniel was still living with Max and neither of them seemed to approach the topic of him moving out. Of course, it did cross the Dutchman’s mind a few times wondering if the Australian would just announce it one day that it was moving back downstairs but it never seemed to come. Max didn’t need a babysitter anymore; they both knew this and although he was still considered ‘fragile’, he didn’t seem to be falling deeper and deeper into a pit of despair.

They had been cooking meals together, doing weekly shops together, been going to and from the races together. Everything had been done together. Their separate laundry piles had now merged into one and it wasn’t uncommon for them to enter each other’s room in the morning searching for a particular item of clothing. Since Max had abandoned the hoodies, it was hard telling whose t-shirt was whose.

It had all become very domestic.

Max couldn’t help but feel that Daniel had been a little off today. He seemed distant. Though he was talking to the Dutchman, he wasn’t his usual cheery jokey self. The former hoped that he hadn't done anything wrong and upset the Australian somehow though Max was struggling to think about what he could have done. Nothing obvious sprung to mind.

After spending about ten minutes sitting on the sofa debating about whether to talk to the McLaren driver, Max sighed and decided to bite the bullet as it were. The unease of not knowing was eating away at him and causing unnecessary stress.

‘You ok?’ Max asked as he opened the balcony doors. Daniel was resting on a chair, looking out towards Monaco.

‘Yeah. Just chilling.’ Daniel replied, head tilted back, and eyes shut.

‘Ok, cool.’ Max said then stood there in silence unsure of what to say next. Being sympathetic and caring had never come easy to him. What do people to say when they want to make sure if their friend is ok?

Max glanced down at Daniel then over to Monaco.

‘You sure? You’re being quiet.’

‘Just got a lot to think about.’

‘Can I help at all?’

Daniel opened his eyes and looked hazily over at Max, who was still standing awkwardly a few metres away from him.

‘I don’t know…’

‘Is it about me?’

He knew he wasn’t the centre of the universe but recently everything somehow came back to Max and his feelings and intentions.

‘Kinda… I don’t know.’

‘Well it is or it isn’t…’

‘It’s about both of us then.’

Max turned to look at Daniel confused. Maybe he was wrong earlier. Maybe Daniel did want to move out. The Australian started speaking again before he could jump to any conclusions.

‘I don’t know. I just feel like everything’s really calm at the moment you know. I’m just scared that something will happen, and you’ll break again and truthfully, I do think that will break me.’

‘I’m in a much better position than I was a few months ago. I’m talking to everyone again.’ Max stated reminding Daniel, ‘Plus I’m sure you and my mother can just shove me back in that centre…’

He meant it as a joke, but his tone said otherwise. He didn’t hold any resentment having to stay there. It just sucked because everything treated him differently and he wanted to avoid that.

‘It wasn’t like I didn’t want you to come home you know. I wanted you out of that centre as much you did. I made your mum put me down as your secondary carer.’

_So that’s why he was always there in the meetings._

‘I was scared. Scared that you weren’t thinking straight, and you just wanted to sweep everything under the rug and for it to all be normal again. I know you’re getting better, but you really frightened me Max and then you wouldn’t speak to anyone.’

They seemed to be having a heart to heart the Dutchman noticed. Daniel was getting everything off his chest so he might as well do the same. It was only fair.

‘I didn’t speak you guys because I knew that if I did, everything would come spilling out and I wasn’t ready for that yet. I could barely register that I was alive let alone then having to justify to you guys why I did it.’

‘I should have seen you were struggling, looking back it was so obvious…’

‘I wasn’t exactly crying at your feet, was I? I worked very hard at hiding myself away.’

‘Are you sure there was nothing I could do?’ Daniel whispered looking at towards the scenery, ‘In the months leading up to it?’

Max wiped his eyes slightly and took a deep sigh. Daniel really needed to stop blaming himself for what happened. He blamed himself back in May, at the centre and now. No matter how many times he and the Australian discussed it, it was not his fault.

‘I should have done something. I should have come to you and forced you to open up, tickled you until you gave in.’

Max shut his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears running down his face as well. The speech sounded familiar, but Max couldn’t place where he had heard it before. The Dutchman opened his eyes and leaned against the balcony bannister. He looked out towards the harbour then down to the bustling traffic.

‘I almost threw myself in front of oncoming traffic when I was 15.’

He didn’t dare look at Daniel as he said this.

‘It was when my dad ditched me at that petrol station. He mentioned it in that interview me and he did last year or 2019…whenever. He just kicked me out and left and I was alone and scared. I knew I fucked up, I wasn't oblivious to the fact but I didn't expect my dad to disown me like that even if it was for a few hours. Some women gave me her phone and I called my mum to pick me up. It was going to take her a while and I got bored, so I trended up the slip road and stood a few metres away from the traffic. I kept watching all the cars go by and they were so slow compared to formula 3 and 1 cars you know? I was amazed that they could still kill someone, that they could do so much damage going that slowly compared to what we’re used to. I kept looking at the traffic and I felt some form of peace. I didn’t know why then, and it felt so nice, so calm, so different to what I’m used to. I remember I stepped forward… I stepped closer to the cars and every step I took, it was like leaving everything bad behind; my fucked-up championship, disappointments, my dad. I was one step away and then my mum arrived and beeped at me. I stepped back and got in her car. I don’t know if I would have gone through with it if he hadn’t arrived. I’ll never know but I guess…I guess my instinct to just make it stop no matter what… my instinct is to die when everything got too much has always been there… so no…I don’t think there was anything you could have done that would have stopped me for trying to end my life. You may have delayed it, but I think it was always inevitable.’

He stopped leaning against the bannister and stood up straight. Max gave a sideward glance to Daniel, who still had tears running down his face and was chewing on his thumb as if it was the only thing that could stop him from sobbing out loud.

‘You’re here now and you’ve been with me since I woke up in that hospital bed all angry and sad and depressed. You stayed with me throughout all of it and…’

His phone lit up with a notification. It was just a simple message from Lando asking if he wanted to play some games tomorrow. Max swiped it away and stared at his background picture. Pierre had taken it during that chaotic breakfast. It was of him eating some waffle while was Daniel smiling at him. Max didn’t even know the photo existed until the Frenchman posted around 50 on their group chat. He looked at both of their faces. Although he was busy stuffing his face, Max could tell he was happy. Back in May, he never imagined could be happy but now…now it seems plausible. He looked over at Daniel in the photo, smiling down at him. He quickly scanned the way he was looking at Max.

_‘He looks at you the same way you look at him when you’re not looking. The heart eyes.’_

He wasn’t sure where the female voice had come from or who it was, but it was there. Looking at that photo, he knew she was right.

_‘Talk to him again. You don’t have to tell him everything. He just wants to be there for you’_

‘And I love you for it.’ Max muttered.

It was as if some chained gates had become rusty and broken down. Everything he had hidden from this year and the previous years was rushing out and running all over his body. Max looked over at Daniel, who removed his thumb from his mouth and stared back at Max astonished.

‘I love you.’ Max repeated louder, ‘Fuck…I love you. I don’t know when I started loving you, but I really do and it killed me having to distance myself from you…’

Max only stopped talking when he felt a pair of lips on his own and two hands either side of his face. He felt every single hidden dream come true and his body burst with an unfamiliar emotion. No. Not unfamiliar. Forgotten. A forgotten feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt loved.

Daniel pulled away but was still clutching Max’s head.

‘I love you too.’

They both burst into smiles and tears.

‘I thought this conversation would be about you moving out.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’

Max shook his head despite Daniel’s hands then bit his lip, ‘Do you want to leave?’

‘No. I love it here. I love living here. I love seeing you every single day and I want to see you every single day until I can no longer. I don’t want to leave.’

‘You better move more of your things down then.’

Max leaned in again and his stomach filled with joy as Daniel depreciated the kiss. A sudden bang brought the pair back into reality. Max stepped out of Daniel’s grasp and left the balcony. He made his way over to the front door, expecting it to be one of his friends dropping by randomly as they did often these days.

Instead, he was met with the cold icy eyes of his father.

The Dutchman just about stepped aside as his dad barged on through to the living room. He turned around and glared at Max. Every cell in his body was covered in fear. He hadn’t seen in dad in months, not since the hospital room. He was about to call for Daniel but decided against it. He couldn’t drag the Australian into more family drama.

‘What’s this I hear about not driving till next season?’

Of course, it would be about F1. Heaven forbid that there is more going on in Max’s life except racing. His dad seemed to have forgotten that for the entire 23 years of his life. The younger Dutchman stood still and tried to hold his ground. He would not be intimidated by his father any longer. He was his own person.

‘I need some time to recuperate. I need a fresh start.’

'You need to show the other drivers that you're not weak. That you're not some pushover who lets the smallest inconvenience rattle him?'

‘I don’t think a suicide attempt is a small inconvenience dad.’

'You always have to make everything, bigger, don't you? Throw it off the scale?'

There was some form of irony there, but Max had neither the time nor the brainpower to laugh and analyse it. 

‘I’m doing what I think is right and what I need.’

‘What you think is wrong. How many good decisions have you made in your lifetime? Not many. Who was there helping you along the way? Me!’

‘Well, maybe I want to do me from now on. Maybe I want to make my own choices. Maybe I'll restrict your access from the paddock so I can make my own choices.'

One second Max was standing by the coffee table with his arms crossed, the next he felt a hand wrap around his neck and applied gentle pressure to it. His arms dropped to his side and he struggled to speak. Tears were threatening to fall and he could see the evil grin appear on his dads face.

_‘Real men don’t cry. Winners don’t cry. Verstappen’s don’t cry and they don’t ask for help from other drivers either.’_

Jos Verstappen’s voice echoed through his head.

He would not give in.

He would not give his dad another reason to hurt him further.

Somehow, Max prevented the tears from falling and moved his hands to his father’s wrists to pull them away from his neck. His dad held on tighter. He was applying pressure slowly so that it would build up and soon strangle him. He moved his hands and tried to hit his dad in the chest to get him to stop, to make him let go but it aggravated him further. He heard the balcony door slide open.

‘Max!’

Jos let go and threw Max to the floor, leaving him gasping for air. Daniel ran straight to his side, inspecting the damage with a concerned look in his eye. Despite it being said in Dutch, it didn’t take a genius to know that the conversation wasn’t a pleasant one. 

‘Should have known you would be here.’

‘Leave him alone.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do Ricciardo. He’s my son remember. You might have won in the hospital but here I’m in charge.’

Max had somehow managed to get his breathing under control. Daniel's arm was still wrapped around his shoulder holding him close to his chest. He knew that he must have looked in a panic-ridden state. It hadn't even been five minutes, and this is what he's dad reduced him to. He stared at the floor trying to find some composure in himself further before talking to his dad again.

‘Look at him. He needs time.’ Daniel argued still holding into Max.

‘He’s a disappointment and a mess.’

Max lent up so he was in a sitting position. He then took a few deep breaths before he slowly and a bit wobbly stood up to face his father. Daniel’s arm had removed his self from his shoulders and the Red Bull driver could see it was set in a position to comfort him if needs be. He took another deep breath before he confronted his father again.

‘I learnt a lot about myself over this past few weeks. I am fucking mess. I really am. I don’t know what’s going on in my head sometimes and nothing stays consistent in there. I thought I was alone in the world because you told me I was. You told me that I no one would look out for me but you’re wrong. I had mum, Vic and my friends and I should have spoken to them about everything. Told them how bad everything was getting.’

He took another shaky breath.

‘I’m not giving up racing. I’m not. I will go back next year. I’m just not doing it for you anymore. I’m doing it for me. I’m living my life for me. I don’t care that you want me to go back racing now. I don’t care that you don’t like my Friends. I don’t care that you don’t and probably will never approve of my relationships. Nothing you can say will ever change my mind about them. I love him Daniel and he’s going to stay in my life for a long as he wants to be.’

‘Racing is one thing, but your relationships are another. Stay with him and I’m gone Max, for good….

_'You need me, Max.' His fathers' voice from inside his head spoke._

Max froze on the spot. He didn’t want to lose his dad entirely over this. How fucked up was that? This man had destroyed Max’s childhood and yet he didn’t want him to out of his life entirely. He shut his eyes trying to think. He wasn’t sure how the darkness was going to inspire him. The Dutchman took a shaky deep breath again.

Suddenly, it was if every memory of his dad that ever existed ran through his brain. All the trauma, all the abuse, both emotional and physical, the silent treatment, being abandoned. Everything that his dad did ran through his brain.

He opened his eyes.

'Thank you, dad. Thank you for getting me into karting and racing. I appreciate it, I really do. I wouldn't be here without you.' Max started, he could see Daniel looking over at him concerned and scared. He could see his father give him a small smile, thinking that he had won, ‘But I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need you there. I can do this myself.’

Jos smile vanished and Daniel’s returned. Max thought he was about to get destroyed. He thought that his dad would storm into Max’s personal space and strangle him again. He thought that this would be his end. He always had an inkling it would be at the hand of his father. Alternatively, Jos looked at his son with his icy gaze and then spoke.

‘If you end up bleeding on the floor again, don’t expect me to be by your bedside this time.’

With that, his dad left the living room and the front door slammed shut.

Max dropped to his knees, sobbing as he did so. Daniel ran over to him and hugged him as he too kneeled to the floor. His breaths were rapid and very shaky, and Max was unsure whether he would be able to calm then again.

‘I did it.’ He muttered, ‘I did it.’

'You did it.' Daniel confirmed resting his forehead against his, 'The lion unleashed its roar.'

Max grabbed the side of Daniel's face and pulled him into a kiss. Both of them somehow keeping their balance as their tongues fought against one another. He moved his hand down and gently placed them the Australian’s waist as he deepened the kiss. There was an unequal weight distribution and soon Max found himself falling onto his back with Daniel laying on top of him. The pair laughed and the Dutchman felt slightly sad as the McLaren driver rolled off and lay next to him.

They laid there in silence, letting everything that had been said and done today pass through them and get absorbed up. Max couldn’t help but feel lighter and happier. Not even happy. Excited? Elated? He wasn’t even sure he knew the English for the way he was feeling.

‘I should take you on a date.’ Daniel rolled to the side and muttered it into Max’s neck. He heard the Dutchman chuckle and then wrap himself around the Australian.

‘Seeing as you’ve moved in, I should think so.’

Daniel laughed in response and cradled Max’s head again, resting their foreheads against each other, ‘We’re going to get through this you know? Together.’

'I know.' Max responded with newfound confidence, 'I can do anything. As long as I'm not alone. I can fight anything. I’m going to fight for my own future…our future.’

* * *

_2027_

‘Throw him into the air again LeClerc I dare you.’ Max shouted exasperated from across from. He then looked to Pierre, who was cradling a small baby wrapped carefully inside a pink blanket, ‘Good luck to her when she reaches two.’

'He knows that if he dares throw our daughter into the air like that, I'm breaking his sim.' Pierre replied repositioning his arms, so he had a better grip on his daughter, 'Doesn't he Esmé. Daddy’s going to suffer if he does that.’

The baby scrunched up her nose and reached out towards her papa causing Max and Pierre to coo at her as she did so. The Dutchman looked over at the small baby reminiscing when his own son was that small and delicate. Watching him run around the room, bumping and crashing into anything he could made Max miss those days. Benny was a bundle of energy that even exhausted Daniel out. Speaking of bumping and crashing, Max felt a huge weight bash into his shins. He looked down and saw his son looking up at him grinning as he wrapped his arms around one of his legs.

‘Play with me now?’ The toddler asked squishing said leg as he did so.

'One-minute baby, I'm just looking at Esmé.’ Max replied while smiling at the sleeping infant.

He missed how his son pouted in an annoyed manner, but he did notice when his son shook his leg, gaining Max’s full attention.

‘But it’s _my_ birthday!’ Benny exclaimed.

Pierre looked over at the Dutchman and laughed. Max rolled his eyes but smiled down and ruffled the small boys' hair causing him to shake his head in an over-exaggerated manner. The toddler tightened his small grip around the Dutchman’s legs. Max previously waved off any concerns that Daniel had over their son being jealous of the new Gasly-LeClerc member but at this moment in time, the Australian may have been onto something. He was always at his papa’s side when he was looking at the new baby.

'Seeing as its someone's birthday I don't see why not.' Max replied removing the toddlers' arms from around his own legs and standing up. He let Benny drag him over to his new toy set where he stayed for the next hour or so. He loved watching his son laugh about even the smallest thing in the world. Nothing made Max's heartache with love more…well maybe one other person did. 

Daniel came to join them about half an hour after Max had been dragged down by Benny and the little family were in a world of their own, completely oblivious to their surroundings. The Dutchman had always found children’s toys stupid and a waste of time. That opinion could have formed due to Max’s own upbringing where the only ‘toy’ he ever had was a kart and even then, that was for practice and training. Now, now seeing how happy one stupid circle that fit correctly into the circle cut out made his son, he loved buying toys. He wanted to see that smile on his sons face forever.

Benny got bored of playing with his parents after a while. He stood up and did a cute little dash over to Lando and Carlos, who were busy arguing over two little toy cars (Ferrari and McLaren) that had been gifted to Benny from one of the other drivers. Max had all bets that it was George who brought the toy cars, the chaotic little shit, as he knew the arguments it would cause between the couple.

Max leaned back against his bedroom door and watched the scene in front of him. Carlos was trying to show Benny how cool the miniature Ferrari was while Lando was shoving the McLaren car in the little boy’s face, again trying to swing his preference. The toddler looked up and laughed at both of his honorary uncles as they fought over their respective teams’ cars. Charles had taken his daughter of his husband and was letting her gently suck on his pinky as he laughed watching Lando throw the Ferrari car away so Benny would have no choice but to play with the McLaren car. Pierre had re-entered into the chaos holding a non-alcoholic drink and shaking his head at the scene.

Max stretched his arms out in front of him. They had gone restless. He caught a glimpse of the very faint scars on his wrist. You wouldn't even know they were there unless you were aware of them. Benny had never spotted them and he was very observant for a toddler, in his parents' opinion. He pulled his arms back and stroked the small scar with on his right wrist.

A pair of hands engulfed his wrist and brought them up to a mouth to be kissed gently. Daniel softly smiled at Max. The Dutchman knew by now that his husband was silently asking if he was alright. Nodding back, Max removed his hands out of the Australians hands and pulled him into a sideward hug. Max leant against Daniel’s shoulder and shut his eyes.

‘Do you think we’ll be bad parents if we ask Lando and Carlos to look after him tonight? Considering it’s his birthday?’ Max chucked at the McLaren driver and opened his eyes to see his son driving one of the toy cars around on the floor, ‘It’s just, I think he’s parents need some one-to-one time you know?’

‘It’ll be unfair for them to deal with Benny’s sugar rush. We can have some one-to-one this weekend in the driver room.’

‘But they’re soo small.’ Daniel complained.

'Never stopped you before.' Max replied lifting his head and planting a soft kiss on his husbands' lips.

‘That is true.’ Daniel replied once Max pulled away, he let his hands fall from Max’s arms and down to his wrists, which he held gently, ‘Max…’

‘I know. I’ll come running over to you for a chat. You trust me don’t you?’ Max replied grabbing hold of Daniel’s hands this time. He vaguely saw the over man nod in response though he didn’t need the physical confirmation. He knew that Daniel trusted him 100% always. Max held his husbands' hands tightly, ‘I have too much to live for now. No media. No DNFs. No stupid rumours can ever take my happiness away- not when I have you two in my life.’

Daniel smiled, a grin spreading out filling his entire face. He leaned back into Max for what Lando had dubbed at PG kiss. They could hear Benny squealing in the background while the TV playing some shit kids TV show as background noise. Max removed his hands and came to rest them on the back of Daniel’s head, threading his hand threw his curls.

‘Wow, Uncle Charlie! I went really high! I almost hit my head.’

Surprisingly, it was Daniel who harshly pulled back and stomped over to Benny, who was laughing in a worried Charles’ arms, clearly having grown bored of Lando and Carlos’s arguing.

‘When Esmé is two, I’m gonna throw her into the air. See how you like it.’ Daniel stated with his arms cross to Charles.

Max watched in amusement as Daniel, Charles and Pierre squabbled over their respective children’s wellbeing. The Dutchman knew that it was an empty threat, but the two new parents didn’t need to know that just yet. Benny had been passed over to Carlos, who had picked up the Ferrari toy again and had placed in the small boys' arms and started to happily play with it, much to Lando’s disappointment.

The Dutchman looked back down at his faint scars. He shook his head. Looking back now, he questioned why he did it. There were so many other things he could have done. So many places that he could have gone to for help. What scared Max the most about the scars was how close he was to not having this future; not having Daniel as a husband and not having his son. Those scars could have taken everything away from him. It would take more than scars and blood loss to take Max away from his family. He would fight anyone and anything so he could stay with them. 

If it came to it.

If it came to fight or die

Max would fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are folks!  
> I do hope you have enjoyed this story.   
> I suppose I have some free time at the moment so free feel to drop me some one-shot requests if you want to. They could be related to his story or not. Future fics are always fun to write.  
> Find me on tumblr at pinktricera5 (Fandoms)  
> Thanks again!


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